How did you come up with the idea for your story, “People in Glass Hotels,” in Peep Show?
Like my main character in “People in Glass Hotels,” I got the idea by watching Samantha Brown’s Passport to Europe on The Travel Channel. I was planning a trip to Germany—which I have yet to take—and the host of the show was visiting Berlin. The hotel she stayed in, the Velvet Hotel, had floor-to-ceiling windows, and the first thing I thought when I saw it was, “Wow, that’s an exhibitionist’s dream!”
Did the story change as you were writing it from your original conception of it?
Aside from the hotel, I didn’t really have a vision for the story beforehand. When I sat down to write it, I just started typing and let it go wherever it needed. By the time I reached the end, the only thing I knew had happened was that my couple had had sex in the hotel window; I had to go back and read it to find out the finer details of the story.
What’s your favorite line or paragraph from your story?
“Other times, I’d sit down at the computer with my vibrator and let it buzz deep inside my aching cunt while I looked at the hotel’s website, the exterior photos exciting me more than any of the real porn my husband liked to bring home.”
Is your Peep Show story similar to or different from your usual erotic writing style?
Since I spend most of my time writing and editing for adult magazines, my story for Peep Show was much less porny than my usual style.
What do you think is sexy about exhibitionism and/or voyeurism?
There’s something innately erotic about watching and being watched. Not just during intimate moments, but during even the most mundane minutes. Having someone look on as you eat lunch, read a book, pay for a purchase, it makes you wonder what they’re thinking and if those thoughts are dirty. And as the watcher, it’s easy to find ways to eroticize your subject’s every move. Especially if you don’t know the person, it’s exciting to imagine them in a new situation—or have them imagining you in that same position.
If you care to answer, are you more of a voyeur, exhibitionist, or neither? Do you think there’s something inherently exhibitionistic about writing, especially writing erotica?
I’m definitely more of a voyeur, but not just in the erotic sense; I’m a big fan of people-watching, and I love trying to guess who people are, what they do, where they’re going.
Writing erotica can be exhibitionistic if you let it, but for the most part my writing is entirely fictional—or based on someone else—so it doesn’t feel like exhibitionism. But on the occasion that there is a tinge of truth in my stories, I do feel incredibly exposed and can’t help looking around wondering if my editors know that a part of me is in the piece.
What are you working on next?
Most of my writing time is devoted to the family of Penthouse magazines and websites, where I’ve been for almost four years. Outside of that, I have no idea what’s going to happen next.
Hear Jennifer Peters read from "People in Glass Hotels" on Thursday, November 19th, 8-10 pm at In The Flesh Reading Series, Happy Ending Lounge, 302 Broome Street, NYC. Free, 21+, with 300 free cupcakes, click here for full details.
Below is an excerpt from "People in Glass Hotels" by Jennifer Peters. To read the whole story, check out Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. Read excerpts from all 18 stories in Peep Show by clicking here.
Felix made the next move, and before I could look away from the glass, he’d pushed me up against it. My breasts were flattened against the cool, smooth surface, and when I looked down, I could see several people looking back up at meæor at least I told myself they were all looking at me; it was hard to tell which window had captured their attention, and I was a bit distracted. I sighed as I stared down at them, and then Felix was pressing his body against mine, his stiff dick nestling between my asscheeks as he kissed my neck and ran his hands up and down my body, eventually wrapping his arms around me and letting his hands wander down toward my pussy. When a finger brushed my wet pussy lips, I moaned and pressed my forehead against the window, my eyes closed tight. When I opened them, however, there were still people staring up at me. And this time I was sure it was me they were watching, because the handful of people from a minute earlier were still there and were now joined by others, some of them pointing up at the window.
“They’re watching us,” I breathlessly told Felix, and he mumbled something in my ear that sounded a lot like, “No, they’re watching you,” though his voice was so rough with passion that it was hard to make out his exact words.