I've written a naughty version of Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility centering upon the sexual awakenings of two very different teen-age sisters. Here's an excerpt:
Marianne loves to go on long walks. She especially likes to walk by the stables that are several blocks from her house. How she wishes she had her own stallion! She imagines calling it “White Star.” In her fantasy, the white fur on the horse’s forehead is shaped like a star and stands in sharp contrast against the blue-black color of the rest of its magnificent body. She sees herself aback this mighty steed as it takes her on a romantic adventure. As she walks farther and farther from home, it starts raining; lightly at first, but then becomes a downpour. Soon, she’s soaking wet and her blouse looks like she could win a prize at a cheesy bar’s “wet t-shirt contest.”
Not wanting anyone to see that she forgot to wear a bra today, she starts running back to her house. In her hurry, she fails to notice a large branch on the ground that had fallen from a pine tree infested with bark beetles. She trips over it and lands flat on her face. She can’t move at first. When she tries to stand, her left leg can’t hold her up and she collapses to the ground. She starts to panic. I can’t just sit here forever in this pile of mud. What am I going to do? Maybe they’ll come looking for me. How long will I have to wait? Maybe they won’t be able to find me! Maybe I’ll die of exposure! Suddenly, she hears the thunder of horse hoofs approaching. Thank goodness! Help is on the way! “Help, help,” she cries out. A young man who resembles Colin Firth’s version of Mr. Darcy sits atop a black stallion. At first, she can’t believe her eyes. If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up.
“A few times.”
“Would it be alright if I jump up there next to you?” he asks.
“Of course it would be alright.”
“Are you sure? Would you be more comfortable if I just walked the horse to your house while you ride?”
“Please, come up and sit with me,” she boldly tells him. In a quick move, he hops onto the horse and sits in front of her. The horse has no saddle, only reins, so this maneuver is very easy to do. She isn’t the first girl with whom he’s ridden bareback.
As they ride, she tells him, “Thank you for saving me. I was afraid that I’d be sitting there all day.”
“I’m glad I came this way, too.”
“What’s your address?” he asks.
“I live at 007 Austen Road.”
“Okay. Hang on. I’ll get you there as quickly as possible.”
She puts her arms around his waist as the horse picks up speed. If only it could stay like this forever. She rests her head against his back and closes her eyes. When they approach her house, her sisters and her mother are waiting for her at the window and all three come outside to greet her. Her mother says, “We were worried sick!”
The young man who rescued her asks, “Where should I put her?”
“Here on the sofa,” her mother says, and leads him into the house. “The poor girl is covered in mud, but I’ll clean it later.”
Her younger sister Margaret is so besotted by his looks that she can’t help but ask, “Has anybody ever told you that you look like Mr. Darcy?”
He smiles and answers, “Yeah. I get that a lot. I’m so glad I came along when I did.”
“And so are we!!” the three sisters and mother say in unison.
The mother asks, “What is your name?”
“Willoughby. John Willoughby.”
“Well, John Willoughby, we are very grateful for your help!” Mrs. Dashwood says.
“It was my pleasure. I’ll leave you now so you can take off her wet clothes.”
At those words, Elinor notices that her sister isn’t wearing a bra and gives her the evil eye. Defensively, Marianne folds her arms across her breasts. Elinor tells him, “We really appreciate all you’ve done.”
“May I call on her tomorrow to see how she’s doing?”
“Yes!” Marianne says, before anyone can answer.
“Okay, then,” he says to Marianne, “Until tomorrow.”
She puts out her hand and he kisses it like a true gentleman and leaves the house.
Margaret says, “Wow! Is he ever sexy!”
Her mother scolds, “You’re only thirteen. What do you know about sexy?”
“Plenty. We have HBO, after all.”
Her mother says, “How can you watch it? I set up parental controls to block HBO. You have to use a password.”
Margaret answers, “I guessed the password right away. ‘One-two-three-four-five’—how easy is that to figure out, Mom? Duh?!”
Her mother throws her hands up in the air and looks to the heavens saying, “Kids today are just too smart.”
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