When yours truly wrote the sex scene between Antonia and Blake, he had a clear agenda: to turn the reader on as much as possible. There’s no hiding from that. The scene is explicit, raw, and intense. But more than just provide rampant, insatiable, carnal physical attraction, I wanted the encounter to resonate with readers on an emotional level.
For me, the best sex scenes are the ones that don’t just serve the body but engage the mind, heart, and spirit too. So, while I wanted the reader to be deeply submerged within the boiling inferno of nuclear sexuality, I also needed the moment to carry weight. It needed to matter for Antonia’s character arc.
This wasn’t just about writing something erotic for the sake of it. This chapter needed to speak to who Antonia is at her core, someone strong but deeply vulnerable, and also spiritually inclined in ways she can’t articulate. That vulnerability is what drives the emotional depth here. It’s not just about her body giving in; it’s about her finally experiencing a moment of true happiness and the dissolution of her trauma for the first time in decades.
Antonia’s Sexual Walls & What They Mean
Antonia, as a character, is someone who has spent years building walls around herself. She’s been:
- Abused in more ways than one
- Mutilated
- Tormented
- Ostracised for loving a black man and had that man ripped away from her forever
- Mistrusted for the colour of her skin by those whose trust she craved most
And more.
All of the above shut Antonia down sexually meaning she hadn’t felt a glimmer of sensual energy in decades before this interaction. However, at this moment, in this specific sexual encounter, she allowed herself to be vulnerable in ways she hadn’t for so long. That’s what makes the scene erotic beyond the physical, the emotional and physical risk she’s taking in conjunction with the fact that doing so connects her to a life force so overwhelming she can’t even begin to comprehend it.
Antonia is used to controlling her narrative, so the decision to let Blake in is monumental. This isn’t just sex; it’s an exposure of parts of herself she guarded for so long she lost all access to them. At that moment, she was more than the social mask she’d worn for years, but finally her true self i.e. the lonely woman who craved connection but was terrified of what it meant to be truly seen.
At that moment she became Antonia, the indomitable force of nature.
This is where the stakes came in. For her, this wasn’t just about pleasure. It was about trust, about letting go of control, and about finally experiencing life as a gorgeous woman. That fear, mixed with desire, is what gives the scene its weight. It’s not just about bodies, it’s about Antonia, in all her complexity, allowing herself to be both powerful and vulnerable at the same time.
Turning the Reader On While Maintaining Depth
Like I said: part of the intent behind writing that scene was to turn the reader on. I wanted the heat to build, for the eroticism to be palpable, for the reader to feel the intensity of the moment. In all honesty I even wanted people to be compelled to pleasure themselves to organic delights while reading it.
#transparency
But I also didn’t want it to be gratuitous. It wasn’t enough for the scene to just be sexy, it needed to mean something.
Eroticism, when done right, shouldn’t just be about the act itself. It’s about what that act represents for the characters involved and the storyline as a whole. In Antonia’s case, sex isn’t just about pleasure, it’s about connection, risk, a step toward vulnerability, and becoming one with the divine. And that’s not to mention the fact that their sex act had massive ramifications within the story.
The intense eroticism of that moment isn’t just there for titillation, not by a long shot.
The emotional weight behind it is what makes the scene stick with the reader after the fact. It’s what elevates the encounter from something purely carnal to something deeply human.
And that’s the balance I wanted to strike: a scene that’s undeniably carnal but also emotionally charged. A scene where the reader can feel Antonia’s fear, her desire, and the experience she has of finally letting go. That push and pull is what makes it more than just sex. It’s what makes it matter.
Why Antonia’s Experience Matters
The focus of this scene was always Antonia. I wasn’t too interested in Blake’s experience here. For me, this moment was about exploring what sex meant for her at that particular point in her life. She hasn’t been intimate with a man in decades since her first life so being reborn into a new young black body and meeting a man as compelling as Blake is exciting and confronting.
Bringing Emotional Stakes Into Eroticism
At the end of the day (you’re another older! Get the quote??), eroticism without emotional stakes doesn’t work—at least not for yours truly. Sure, I wanted the reader to feel the physical intensity of the scene, but I also wanted them to walk away feeling something deeper. Antonia’s journey isn’t just about her body—it’s about her heart, her soul, her internal struggle. And that’s where the emotional depth comes in.
When you create a scene that’s as psychologically charged as it is erotic, you give the reader something to invest in. You turn what could have been a fleeting moment of passion into a pivotal point in the character’s journey. For Antonia, this was that moment, a point where she finally got to experience something that had been denied to her for several decades but had lasting implications for the rest of the story. It was a cathartic release of energy in which she unknowingly ushered in the birth of her new existence and the death of the last.
That’s what made the scene matter. That’s what made it real.
Excelsior!
