Pauline Likes Rude Mechanicals

This is very, very, very, nice: my great pal, Pauline, just sent me this review for my soon-to-be-released new collection, Rude Mechanicals. Thanks, sweetie!

In his latest collection of erotic short stories, RUDE MECHANICALS, M.Christian excels himself. He gives us stories that allure and arouse; stories that are so exquisite that we are compelled to keep turning the pages. Christian is a wonderful story teller; he takes us gently into areas we would probably have never ventured into. Places we never dreamt existed; strange, sometimes dark habitats, that scare and delight. And as if the superb stories weren’t enough, Christian loves, absolutely adores, words. He’s a poet. Using the right word, in the right place, economic where it matters, flamboyant when it’s appropriate; he’s a master craftsman, always dancing ahead of the reader, teasing, even taunting; follow him if you dare.

In “Blow Up,” Christian is writing about one of my favourite things. Fetish. The protagonist isn’t interested in Betty, the curvy shop assistant in the toy store. She makes a pass at him and he notices, and admires her round bounciness, but only in relation to his purchase. He makes a note of her phone number, mentally acknowledging that it will be useful to him later, when new stocks of his fetish arrive. Here, Christian places the reader in the position of voyeur. We see that this man is a connoisseur; he has established his ritual into a fine art. Christian paces the writing carefully and we watch as the narrator prepares himself, in a routine long established. He knows which shaving creams work best for him, and buys them in bulk. The ones which sting and chafe the skin. He knows which oils to anoint himself with. Which are too sticky, or too thin. His fetish is intriguing, and a reader can’t help speculating on the well travelled paths he has walked along, to arrive at, what is for him, perfection.

“Billie,” reads like a ‘road film.’ Billie, is a biker, tough and butch. She and her Harley conquer the Pacific Highway. It’s a love affair; Billie is a top. No-one tops her. Not even the open road. She brandishes the Harley like a weapon, daring, intimidating the road, challenging it. “She is a Daughter of the Open Road, a disciple of Harley Davison.” Adrenaline rushes, it’s overwhelming. Billie cries out at the road -- then someone overtakes her. The shock; the anger, is almost too much for Billie to deal with, and what follows is a crazy race that will almost certainly end in death. The roar of the bikes is all consuming -- then Billie sees the biker’s face and everything changes…

In “Beep,” Christian takes a playful look at those messages left on our voice mail. They could be from anyone. You’ve won a holiday! the lottery! Or more likely, will you please call your bank about your overdraft! This message is none of these; it’s from a Mistress, and she wants his cock. NOW! His cock belongs to her. She sadistically purrs her instructions, and tells him what she’s going to do to him. Her intentions, are wild and erotic, even pornographic. His cock is instantly hard at the sound of her voice; steel wrapped in satin. It’s both chilling and hot and very, very sexy -- with a wonderful twist at the end.

Those gadgets have feelings too. Spare a thought for the lonely vibrator, discarded, abandoned, unloved and probably, unwashed, beneath your bed. In “I am Jo’s Vibrator,” the vibrator tells its story. It tells us about itself; it sells itself to us. Then, it tells us about its experiences with Jo and Patrick. Jo and Patrick approach the ‘Rabbit Pearl Vibrator,’ with trepidation and apprehension. They are nervous, Patrick more than Jo. Would Jo like the rabbit more than him? The rabbit knows better. Sex toys are for the pleasure of men and women. Jo and Patrick are very happy and so is the Rabbit Pearl Vibrator.

M.Christian’s writing is meticulous, but there’s nothing forced about it. It flows easily, from a lively mind, to his fingertips, to the keyboard. RUDE MECHANICALS is a big accomplishment, from a very accomplished writer. These erotic stories make us laugh, like in “Beep.” Sometimes, sex can be intimidating and the anticipation can almost overwhelm, as in “Blow Up.” There’s the dark side of desire in “Speaking Parts,” as Pell yearns for the enigmatic Arc. This story is like a lament, for a future that probably will never be.

But, for me, these erotic tales tell me that sex, in all its forms, is something to be celebrated. It’s joyous, it’s fun; it’s also hilariously funny. Well it is, isn’t it?