Sandra has just come out of the shower. I can see from her red skin that she has been standing under the hot spray for a long time. The scent of the new apricot shampoo emanates from her hair. She joins me at the desk, looking at what I’m doing. I embrace her with my left hand. My hand is on her upper arm. The moisture hasn’t quite cleared yet. Her skin is heated and feels soft. With my middle finger, I feel the scar she got when she was vaccinated as a child.
What does skin feel like? A few questions can help describe your protagonist’s skin more individually:
Is the skin cold or hot?
Dry or moist?
Rough or tender?
Clean or dirty?
By not only answering the question but also including the reason for this condition in the story, you already get a subtext, a second level. For example:
Is the protagonist just coming out of the shower like Sandra just did? Then the question arises whether she is one of those people who like to let hot water trickle over her body, or whether she is the athletic type who toughens up under the cold spray of the shower. It depends on whether the skin is still slightly red from the water, whether, for example, the nipples are erect due to the contracted skin, and also whether the skin feels cold or warm.
What does your protagonist work as? If he works a lot with heavy equipment, his hands will be leathery hard, and sometimes calloused. If he works a lot outdoors, this also applies to all parts that are frequently exposed to the sun. I regularly read about the weather-beaten face of farmers. Almost a cliché, but apt.
Does skin always have to be clean in our stories? Depending on its condition, it can be greasy, slippery, slippery, or sticky. Under a layer of dirt, it becomes dull.
Does your protagonist go for regular manicures or pedicures? Of course, this affects how his skin feels on his hands and feet. They are either soft and smooth or hardened and rough.
But even the weather can change our skin in the short term. Cold weather can cause goosebumps. The small hairs on the arms straighten up and small mounds form at their bases. The skin contracts from the cold. It feels cold, maybe even shivery, frosty, icy, when your protagonist just comes back indoors from the cold.
In hot weather, on the other hand, skin is often damp, sweaty, at least heated and warm.
Old people’s skin often becomes dry, sometimes cracked or wrinkled. This condition is also called chapped, or wrinkled. Also due to age, it becomes increasingly flabby and wrinkled, later also horny and leathery.
I do not want to open a new set of problems called “skin diseases” with the associated peculiarities of the skin at this point. I thought about whether it could be addressed in an erotic story at all. But then I remembered the mother of all romantic love stories, Eric Segal’s “Love Story”, which would have lost much of its dramatic potential without the protagonist Jenny’s cancer. So why not make an illness the subject of the story?
