The Life and Times of Fabio


You might see this picture floating around GU Creative Writing Society today. Its the prompt today for Flash Fiction February and the banner for our Romance & Erotica Workshop. This is of course because today is Valentine’s Day, a celebration of love and romance and this picture oozes sensuality. However this picture is far more than an ode to wine, good hair and adorable kittens, the man in this photo has played an integral role in Creative Writing Society’s special celebration of February the 14th for the last 4 years.

This is Fabio. Often dubbed ‘the original male model’, Fabio came to fame at the age of just 14 when two photographers approached him in a gym and told him he should become a model. Oozing with natural charisma and rippling good looks (not to mention his galloping abs) Fabio set a new standard for the ideal man. It was not long before he was approached by author’s of erotica fiction to feature on the covers of their novels.

That is why Fabio is so important to us, he is the face that launched a thousand fictions. The statuesque prowess and heroic demeanour inspired writers to mould their characters to  fit Fabio’s ample dimensions. This man is an idol, the living embodiment of the narrative muse in action. Without Fabio great epics of romance, fantasy and love would never have come to be. And without Fabio Creative Writing Society would not have such a glittering icon upon which to centre its best-loved workshop.

So if you like good hair and wine (lots and lots of wine) then come along to our Romance & Erotica Workshop but if you like Fabio, then please let him inspire you as he has inspired so many others and write us a story for Fabio. (Send us your work here.)



Source: Fabio in his own words.



Images of Fabio on the cover of Erotica Novels:


Week 8 Workshop: Fan Fiction and Scenes of a Sexual Nature

Hey all,
So last night we looked at remixing genres in fiction and specifically at how we might go about writing children’s fiction, and the issues with intended audiences, language, pictures and so on. Was really interesting to see how people responded to the same prompts…often with some very stark differences… One thing we agreed on was that children’s lit often tends to have a moral purpose which seems clear to adults but works more unconsciously on the mind of a child, and that it’s difficult to write anything for kids without having Freud hanging over your head.

Anyway, next week’s workshop will delve into very different territory with ‘Fan Fiction and Scenes of a Sexual Nature’. It’s become an annual sort of tradition that we have some kind of ‘erotica’ week, which seems quite appropriate what with all this Fifty Shades of Grey malarkey going about. We’ll be looking at what works and what definitely doesn’t, how to avoid cliches, common tropes in writing fan fiction and of course that obvious link between fan fiction and well, sex scenes. A good place to start might be here for some – shall we say – interesting writing on this topic. Please come along and there might even be wine (feel free to bring your own).

Also, it’s almost the end of February so you still have time to participate in Flash Fiction February. We’re looking for as wide a range a work as possible and it doesn’t have to be perfectly polished – just whatever spills out your head in relation to the prompts! You can find them all on the blog, and you can keep writing them and submitting them throughout March, though there won’t be any new prompts put up so you can go back and write from the ones already up. Eventually they’ll be part of our Flash Fiction February anthology! Remember to use the #flashfictionfebruary tag on twitter to advertise your writing ;)

That’s all from us and hope to see you at the usual time and place next Tuesday!

The Virgin

There was something in his crimson eyes that called out to her, called across the years of immortality and vengeance, the hue of not only anger, death and blood, but the crimson of desire also that made her want him all the more.

Curiosity sparked in his otherwise icy expression, the living embodiment of winter. All was quiet in these halls now, for all others had gone, left to do that pitiful thing called sleep, leaving them, alone, together. She had stayed awake, watching him, at a distance, respectful, until such a time as his back at been turned. Then she had struck, fast and snapping like the serpent he was so obessessed with, answering her own desire to be on him, with him, all for him.

He slammed her, hard, against the stone of the marble fireplace, sending a direct agonising thumping upher spine. She winced, slightly as his pale face zoomed to focus in line with hers, and his hand – snap – fastened around her neck, holding her there with the power of anger as well as his unnerving strength.

“What the fuck are you doing, Bellatrix?!” he roared, the thin flaps of skin that were the remainder of his nose flaring with dangerous ire.

She refused to lower her eyes. All she could see was their proximity to one another, that was all that was resounding around her mind, that was all which mattered right now. Her hands, lowered as they were by her side only hand to move an inch to find the between of his legs, slip upwards and push.

He growled, pulled her forwards by her neck and then slammed her back into the wall again. As the pain lanced around her body her lower lips opened and a cascade of wet dribbled into her deliberately worn thong.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“My – my lord,” she whispered, staring into those deep, so experienced and yet so young, red red eyes. “My lord, please I only-”

A harsh slap around her face. It only made her cum more.

“What are you doing?”

“Have you never been with a woman?” she gasped, desperately, clawing at his thigh, “Have you? Have you ever even considered it?”

The sound of grating teeth came to her ear. “I don’t – that is not even – How dare you even suggest I have – have not-”

His eyes were wide, confused even. For the Dark Lord, this was a new emotion, a strange emotion, an emotion he shouldn’t even be feeling. Been with a woman? What did she mean? What did it matter if he was a virgin, that was not part of this whole … thing. He was here to conquer, not to fuck, what on earth was she going on about? What the hell?

“My – my Lord …” she looked longingly, so painfully at him, straining against the vice like grip of his hand. Her own hand squeezed his thigh again, a little closer to his manhood. Jutting forwards her head she aimed her lips towards his ear. She whispered as her index finger stretched out and touched the tip of his penis beneath his thin robe.

“Is it as cold as your heart?” her quiet voice asked. “Is it as cold as you are?”

“Its fucking as cold as yours!” he spat, and he jerked her forwards to collapse onto him. Grabbing her finger touching his phallus he moved it higher, making it to grasp the thing instead, then move up and down as a forced masturbation as his cold finger, bone-like and thin, twitched aside her robe and grabbed her pussy without hesitancy.

Her eyes were wide open, he watched them as he pressed, harder, and then down past her trousers and in, watching with curiousity the way her mouth opened and a pathetic moan escaped from her lips.

Their bodies were pressed together. Finally, she thought, as her breathing accelerated, almost panting, Finally.

He let her continue his commands to his dick, then returned that hand to her throat. Squeezing so as go gain a hold once more he dragged her with him as he turned their bodies around in a circle, moving from fireplace to the long wooden dining table. He threw her onto it, ordered her to strip herself bare.

She did as she was told, equally without hesitancy, then lay there, bruised somewhat and shivering from the cold as he ascended her, mounted her, and fucked her brutally like an old man fucks a cheap whore.

by Ailsa C. Williamson