The 2002 Golden Clitorides Awards

The scene: a crowded Taverna (yes, crowded more so than usual), set deep in the heart of the woods, somewhere. . . . surrounded by mountains and clear sparkling waterfalls. A place of secrets, scandal and seduction. Known only to those who sacrifice time, blood, sweat, tears, and other well-known bodily fluids, to the craft of erotica.

Yes, we're talking about *that* Taverna. The one glimpsed occasionally in an ASSD post.

Why are we going casual this year, you ask? Why not the chandelier-studded banquet hall of the past two Clittie Awards ceremonies? Because our fearless organizer and vote-counter, Rui, is under the weather. And as such, forgot to reserve the glitzy banquet hall. So we will just have to buck it up and make do with the beer, scarred wooden tables, cramped quarters and battered jukebox.

Into the chaos and confusion and impossibly loud chatter, flits the Birthday Nymph. She lands atop the bar, and delicately clears her throat, trying to get everyone's attention. "A-hem."

No response.

She tries again. "A-hem."

Same response.

With a wave of her insubstantial looking silver wand, a deafening boom is heard inside the Taverna.

Immediate silence.

"A-hem," she whispers, a lopsided smile on her face. She straightens her wings, adjusts her bodice and announces, "I now present to you the presenter of the 2002 Clitoride Awards.. Mr. Rui Jorge!"

There is much clapping and foot stomping, as Rui comes out of a back room and climbs onto the bar. His red and black plaid flannel shirt, faded denim jeans, and combat boots, he fits in perfectly with his surroundings. The flush of his cheeks and the red-tinged nose are the only indications that he's not quite feeling up to par.

"Thank you, Birthday Nymph," he says and tosses her a shy smile. With a nod of her head, she flits back into some dark corner, leaving him the sole occupant of the limelight.

"Since this is the first year we've had new, expanded categories, I don't want the awards ceremony to take the better part of a week," Rui explains. "To expedite things, I've enlisted the aid of two presenters."

In a flash of blinding yellow light, Rui is flanked by two familiar ASSD denizens: Gary's Muse and Jimmy Bot.

"They will be circulating through the crowd tonight, presenting the awards to the winners as I make the announcements. In the interest of time, please save all acceptance speeches until the awards ceremony has concluded. At that time, I'm heading back to my cozy bed for some much needed TLC." At that, he whispers to Souvie and Des, sitting together at the bar, "My place afterward, right?" They nod in confirmation and he turns his attention to the pieces of paper clutched tightly in his hands.

"Each year we receive more and more votes, especially outside the ASSD community. Word is spreading, which to me, is a good thing. Creative and inspiring writers are always welcome into the fold."

While Rui has been speaking, Gary's Muse and Jimmy Bot have started circulating through the crowd, awaiting the reading of the first winner.

A mumble goes up through the crowd. Evidently the intro has gone on long enough. "I will read the winners, saving 'Author of the Year' for last, of course. In the event of a tie, I will read all the winners' names out, in alphabetical order."

Rui looks at the sheaf of papers in his hands. "Short Story of the Year: 'The Eve of Victory' by Oosh."

The applause is deafening, especially from the table of blonde haired women dressed in skin tight, silk mini-skirts and 5-inch heels.

Rui continues, "Long Story of the Year: 'The Smell of Sex' by Couture, 'First Impressions' by Gary Jordan, and 'The Girl with a Bicycle' by Wandering Lanes."

Chocolate flies through the air, whether thrown *by* Gary or *for* Gary is unclear. The chocoholics in the crowd fight for the even the tiniest pieces.

Rui gamely presses onward. "Best Series/Serial: 'NanoVirus' by cmsix, and 'The Seduction of Simone' by Harriet."

Table thumping drowns out the loud clapping and cmsix can be heard to call out, "Drinks are on me!"

Rui has to pause while the barmaids rush to fill everyone's drink request. He wonders if cmsix realizes that his bar tab is likely to be in the triple digits by the time everything's said and done. With a shrug of his shoulders, he continues, "Best Short Story by a New Author: 'Ruthie's Hair' by Selena Jardine."

The table of Ruthie's Club patrons blow their party horns and start a conga line.

Rui just shakes his head and says, "Best Long Story by a New Author: 'The Girl with a Bicycle' by Wandering Lanes."

"Again," Wandering Lanes mutters in disbelief. Gary's Muse hands over the second award and meanders off, leaving Wandering Lanes staring at the two awards.

"Best Erotic Poety," says Rui, "is 'All Else' by iambe."

A shadowy writer breaks out pen and paper, and starts composing a sonnet, inspired the energy pulsing in the room.

Rui smiles. "Best Seasonal Story: 'Still Together' by Oosh."

Jimmy Bot hands her the award and gets slapped for trying to cop a feel.

"The award for Classic Clit goes to: 'Soccer Moms' by Mark Aster, 'Chest' by Deirdre, 'The Watching Trilogy' by Alan Mathews, and 'CAMP' by Net Wolf."

A moment of silence is observed for those writers no longer active for one reason or another. (Narrator's Note: Not that the four mentioned writers have *all* disappeared from our climes. Just taking the moment of silence because we are talking "Classic" Clit.)

Rui breaks the silence. "Best Romantic Story: 'War Secret' by Oosh."

Jimmy Bot decides to station himself by Oosh's table.

"Best Same Sex Story: 'Turnabout is kind play' by iambe."

Rui takes a drink to wet his parched throat, and carries bravely on. "Best Mind Control Story: 'Ahead of the Game' by Yellow Snow."

Through the clapping and shouting he continues, "Best BDSM (bondage, discipline and sado-masochism) Story: 'Tag, You're IT' by Pami."

Pami stands up and says, "Since Allison couldn't be here with us tonight, I'm not wearing any panties in her honor. Verification volunteers will be screened after the ceremony. Thank you." She accepts her award from Jimmy Bot and sits back down.

"Best Heterosexual Story: 'Curtains' by Selena Jardine," Rui announces.

Alexis stands up and toasts her dueling partner. Selena responds in kind, tossing back her drink like a sailor. Which gets Gary's attention, of course.

Rui consults the few pieces of paper he has left. "Nearing the end of the announcements, Best Humor Story: 'The Princess and the Pea' by Oosh."

Again, the applause is deafening.

"Which brings us to the next to last award for the evening. The award for Best New Author goes to Selena Jardine."

Selena high fives Father Nat, her smile bright enough to make even the mysterious author in the corner take notice.

"And last, but definitely not least, the award for Author of the Year goes to. . . Oosh!"

He tosses the slips of paper up in the air in triumph. "Congratulations to all the winners. And all the writers, period. Job well done." With a sigh of relief that gets promptly drowned out by the cheering, backslapping and general revelry, Rui slides down off the bar. With a girl on either side, he walks slowly out into the night black. . .