The 2003 Golden Clitorides Awards

The banner above La Taverna's sub-basement door says, "Welcome to the 2003 Golden Clitorides Awards Presentation (Black Tie Only)". The bouncers were rigorously enforcing the dress code, and everyone's favorite Nymph is there to make sure they did their job. She plants herself directly in Nick Urfe's path. "Did you not read the invitation?" she questions testily. From the number of patrons who'd come in the wrong state of dress, she is beginning to think *no one* had paid attention. Figures. "'Black Tie Only' means, black tie only. I'm sorry, you'll have to check your jacket, shirt, pants and whatever else you're wearing." Urfe raises his eyebrows, but quickly complies. The line moves on.

A trio of women and one man, clad only in black ropes ask, "Is this really the sub-basement?" The Nymph's wings flutter testily. They move quickly inside.

At precisely 8 p.m., (in some time zone or another), a spotlight lights the stage, illuminating the Master of Ceremonies, Rui Jorge. Blinded by the light, he flings up a hand containing a number of envelopes - scattering them all over the stage. A chorus line of busty, long-legged women dances their way across the stage, thwarting his efforts to gather them up. It seems there had been enough money in the budget to hire some Clitorettes after all.

The dancers move on and Rui bends to pick up the envelopes, incidentally mooning the assembled authors, editors, fans, groupies, turtles, sheep, novices, Hell's Angels and 1 blow up doll.

"Ahem," Rui says, stepping up to the mic. "I'd like to welcome everyone to the 2003 Golden Clitorides Awards Presentation. Special thanks to everyone who helped make tonight possible, especially the Birthday Nymph and my assistants, the Clitorettes, and Clitorods. A few thong-wearing men stand among the dancers. Prime specimens of manhood with washboard stomachs and hard biceps (among other things).

"Before we get started, I have one rule," Rui adds in a scratchy voice. He knows how authors are with rules. "Please, if authors want to give acceptance speeches, give them upstairs in the Taverna after the ceremony."

He opens the first envelope. "The Golden Clit for Author of the Year goes to... Nick Scipio."

Thunderous clapping and shouts reverberate off the concrete walls as a Clitorette and Clitorod escort Nick to the stage. He accepts his award with a wink and a grin.

As Nick is led offstage, back to his seat, Rui announces, "And the Best NEW Author is... Nick Scipio."

The Clitorette and Clitorod spin Nick around and he heads back up the steps. Another wink and grin accompany his acceptance of the award. As Nick is again led offstage, Rui picks up the next envelope. "The award for Long Story of the Year goes to 'Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan' by Nick Scipio."

Nick is starting to feel dizzy as the Clitorette and Clitorod spin him around once more, and guide him back to the stage. This time his face is slightly red as he accepts his award with a slight nod.

"Best Series is awarded to Nick Scipio for 'Summer Camp'."

The Clitorete and Clitorod block Nick's way back to his seat. He's not the only one getting dizzy.

"Best Serial goes to 'Summer Camp - Book 2: Gina' by... Nick Scipio." Even Rui's usually chipper voice has lost some of its luster by this time.

"Best Short Story by a New Author goes to 'Let it snow' by - yes, you guessed it - Nick Scipio."

The applause is thinning and even the Clitorettes and Clitorods are starting to look bored.

"I think we should rename the female dancers to the Nickorettes," one patron quips.

Rui clears his throat and continues, "The Golden Clit for Best Long Story by a New Author goes to Nick Scipio for 'Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan'."

Nick is juggling all his clits, trying not to look embarrassed. It's a losing battle.

"The awards for Best Seasonal Story, Best Romantic Story and Best Heterosexual Story all go to 'Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan' by Nick Scipio."

"Maybe we should rename this the Nick Scipio Awards."

"Or the Golden Scipios."

The Nymph gives the two chatty patrons a stern glance and shakes her wand at them. Silence falls once again (well, as silent as a room full of authors, editors, fans, groupies, turtles, sheep, novices, Hell's Angels and 1 blow up doll can get).

Rui leans on the podium and yawns. "The Golden Clit for the Sterling Silver Story goes to..." He looks toward the audience expectantly.

"Nick Scipio," the audience says.

"Yes, for 'Summer Camp - Book 1: Susan'," Rui finishes.

Nick has no more room for clits. If he had pockets he could have stuffed some in them, but, well, we're all familiar with the dress code by now.

"The award for Short Story of the Year goes to..." Rui stands up taller. "'Maid Elizabeth' by Smilodon."

A group of Clitorettes run out to escort Smilodon to the stage, as Nick *finally* heads to his seat.

"Oh!" Rui pipes up. "There's a tie. 'Anticipation Like a Drug' by Nick Scipio is also a winner for Short Story of the Year."

Nick's Clitorette and Clitorod spin him back around once more and he takes his award, perching it precariously atop the others in his arms. He heads for his seat, quivering as people reach out hands to stroke his clits. He's almost at the brink of eruption by the time he reaches his seat (after all, how much clit stroking can one man take?).

Rui grins at the audience. "There is another tie, for Best Flash Story of the Year. The award goes to Elle `Attend for 'The Seasons' and Uther for 'Smell'."

Both authors are escorted up to receive their awards, Elle's black pinstriped tie nestled snug between her breasts, Uther's draped casually around his neck, knot all askew.

Once they'd left the stage, Rui continues, "Best Erotic Poetry award goes to 'Virtual' by Oosh."

Oosh glides up to the stage, black tie tied around her leg like a garter. The ends of the knot lick against her thigh like an impatient puppy. She smiles as she takes her award and two Clitorods help her down the stairs.

Rui looks like he's got his second wind. Either that, or he has gas. Either way, he hurries on, "And next up is the award for Best Same Sex Story. The winners are 'The Sunstroke Cure' by Oosh, and 'My Brother's Wife' by Mike Kimera."

Luckily for Oosh, she had been "discussing" some things with one of the Clitorettes so she didn't have far to go to claim her second award. Mike practically drug his escorts to the stage in his hurry to accept his award.

"The Golden Clit for Best Mind Control Story goes to DiscipleN for 'Minding Others'."

One of the Clitorettes took the clit and brought it to DiscipleN. Mind control in action.

"The award for Best Humor Story goes to Ni... er, sorry," Rui apologizes, "habit. The award goes to Souvie for 'S'mores'."

Her escorts wait patiently as Souvie is busy swapping slobber with John, her new hobby... er, hubby. She skips back to her table, the tie around her breasts bobbing along with them.

"Now we're down to just two more awards," Rui announces with pleasure. He's obviously thinking of the private party he's arranged with some of the Clitorettes for after the ceremony. "We have another tie for Best BDSM Story. The winners are Shon Richards for 'Her Cabin Boy' and Dark Pen for 'Office Games'."

Shon blows kisses to the members of his coven as a Clitorette takes a hold of his tie and leads him to the stage. Dark Pen is led much the same way; both boys are clearly familiar with their subject matter.

"And last, but not least, is the award for Classic Clit. Everyone raise their clits in praise of the winner, 'The Adventures of Me and Martha Jane' by Santos J. Romeo."

Applause fills the sub-basement as the awards are concluded. Rui sneaks off stage amid a handful of buxom Clitorettes, and the Birthday Nymph gently pokes, prods, cajoles and manhandles people out the door to the Taverna above. Speech time, everyone!

- Congrats to everyone!
Your emcee,
Rui Jorge