Some people don't consider erotica to be art, but that's another discussion. The purpose of art is often to push the boundaries of what we think of as normal or to push our limitations, and that can show up in so many different ways.
For those unfamiliar with the train lines going into and out of London, this story takes place on the train going from Dover in County Kent into Victoria Station in London. Incidentally, I wrote the first draft of this story on that exact rail line, but I was going in the opposite direction (from Victoria Station out to Dover) at the time. When I first gave the draft to my critique group to read, I received mostly negative feedback. This was partly because only one member of my group wrote erotica (she liked it) and partly because it was a work in progress, and it hadn't yet become the story that it is now. I put it aside while writing other things but I believed in it and the emotion that went with it. Several years later I returned to the draft and immediately realized I was trying to go in two different directions with the heroine's journey. One was her inner journey and the other her outer journey. Surprisingly, most people think erotica is about sex. Well, yes, it is. But, no, it also isn't. The most powerful erotica, especially short, that I've read is about the emotion or the internal experience. Sex illustrates that, underlines it, gives it more power. At the very least the story hinges on the emotional or psychological dynamic between the characters. (If you've read my previous entries you are beginning to sense a theme here with my repetitive mentions of emotion). WARNING: Mild spoilers ahead...
