Orgasmic Catalog

Orgasmic Catalog
by
Wendy McNally

Front Cover

Back Cover

Book Description

Orgasmic Catalog is a novel entailing the story of a young girl named Helena as she awkwardly transcends the period from early puberty to maturity and independence. While discovering the base upon which Helena thrives, the reader is treated to her blossoming sensitivity and creativity, assisted by an array of culinary delights, poetic insights and a profusion of graphic illustrations.

Helena’s humorous and solemn sexual awakening is introduced in the first chapter with immediacy and reverential delicacy. It establishes the integral path in the life of this aspiring, modern, young woman, as an orgasmic temple in a compelling search for her relevance in the universe.

The evolving Diva challenges her peers, her parents and her parish priest as she gains emotional confidence and acute physical charm. Her keen observations and ability to respond to pressure and annihilation result in a penetrating recognition of her sexual identity, followed by her commitment to a sanctimonious indulgence in its consequential pleasures and responsibilities.

As Helena’s journey unfolds, the fundamental struggles with life and death and her maturing intellectual perceptions are developed through excerpts from “The Three Sisters”, a novel that Helena begins to write in which she explores a primal world as revealed through the actions and thought processes of three mischievous, manipulative young girls, ultimately fated for unpredictable destinies.

Orgasmic Catalog is intended to captivate an adult male and female audience. On an external level, the inventive recipes; interpretive verse; and figurative artwork that occupies the pages between chapters, provides a simplistic and candidly austere compatibility for the reader with a desire for an innovative collaboration of diverse, but light entertainment.

Excerpts from Orgasmic Catalog:

The first excerpt is taken from Chapter 2: No Turning Back Now...Once A Cook Always A Cook

…At the gallant age of sixteen, Helena’s sexual awareness and curiosity had reached a forbidden height as did her desires to nurture fantasies conceptualizing the as yet, elusive, intangible male.

Helena’s anticipation for love and sex resulted in an intense flourish of poetic verse and tantalizing recipes. As she summoned the wisdom of ancient deities and dynasties, a tureen of luscious coriander, cumin and fenugreek stew emerged steaming hot from Helena’s oven.

Her midday creation, laden with spiced sausages, carrots, peas, leeks and potatoes incensed the air with tempting aromas. Helena consecrated the stew with a splash of yogurt and a light grating of nutmeg; then she escorted her sumptuous meal to the barnyard where the horses languished in the warm spring sun.

The black stallion was already displaying his fully charged, graciously enlarged equine alter piece while emitting gentle deep throated rumbling sounds to a chorus of song birds circling overhead. A quivering mare stood waiting nearby.

Clad in her jeans and hand knit jacket, Helena descended comfortably onto a throne of thick soft grass against the barn wall. The heavily scented stew tasted more delicious than she ever imagined. Spoonful after spoonful, the flavor was sinfully arresting.

Equally, the stallion’s ensuing theatrical copulation with his incumbent mate was sinfully arousing. As Helena visually absorbed the captivating rapture between stud and mare, she unexpectedly lost her composure as an uncontrollable orgasm spontaneously erupted within her inner sanctum.

She firmly grasped her bowl of remaining stew and waited for her quake and aftershocks to settle. Did Goddesses often come this way, she wondered apprehensively? Did the laws of nature and cosmic structure permit such random flexibility and insurrection?

Exhausted and intrigued, Helena decided that this erotic indecency was definitely for the priest….

The second excerpt is

Poem #4: Island Guest

He clutched two knotted canes
As he shuffled along the path;

Pebbles rattled and sprayed
Around his small wobbling feet.

His head of powdery white hair
Wavered like the pink raspberries

That now and again
Tapped his cheek.

Age accosted the child
Quickly as youth fled;

He was a mother’s babe still
And a rhyme from an old mill.

When his thin quaking voice emerged
Sounding like a crackling shell,

Then suddenly a bird; I had his eyes,
Faded as the evening sky;

And in them vaguely shone,
A multitude of falling stars.

He was a tender sapling
Sucking hard at Nature’s breast,

An ancient willow
Shaking from the weather.

The third excerpt is Recipe #15: Snails, Bread and Tails To Entice The Timid

-In a roasting pan, place raw snails with olive oil, cracked black pepper, crushed garlic, sliced mushrooms, chopped peeled tomatoes, tomato sauce, barbecue sauce, sweet hot mango chutney, chili sauce, curry paste, soy sauce, sweet marjoram, thyme, sage, dry red wine and sweet sherry.
-Stir together. -Bake in an oven uncovered at 450 degrees for approximately one hour or until juices are well reduced and snails are grilled in appearance.
-Stir the contents intermittently. -Taste for perfection and adjust flavors if necessary.
-Sprinkle with grated Parmesan cheese, crumbled Feta cheese and chopped sweet basil.
-Serve hot on fresh baked thick slices of bread. -Follow with a crisp spinach salad consisting of peeled wedges of oranges, sliced cucumber, broccoli and rounds of cantaloupe.
-Toss with sweetened orange juice and Balsamic Vinaigrette.
-Add a heavy grating of Parmesan, Asiago and Feta cheese.
-Garnish with sliced black olives.
-Cover the entire top surface of the salad with chilled, cooked and shelled tiger shrimp and lobster tails.

-Add a squeeze of lemon and ground pepper.
-Pour a sweet creamy anise dressing over the seafood.

Presentation:
-Consider these to be ‘appetizers’ that don’t require a meal to follow.
-Serve on a marble tabletop with a vase of white peonies and fern fronds.
-Glasses of red and white wine might suitably escort the snails and tails.
-As bare buttocks and forearms connect with the coolness of marble, and muzzles inhale the spicy scent of peonies, a spontaneous engagement of thrusting force will give fresh meaning to already mature adventures.

The fourth excerpt is taken from Helena’s book: The Three Sisters: The Maggie Episode

… The sisters freed their air passages and breathed unobstructed sighs of relief and reprieve for Maggie having died a natural death instead of expiring by conspiratorial implementation. Windy unhappily concluded, “Poor Maggie, she was one great bovine specimen, always exhibiting her finest achievement, perpetual rumination.”

“Yeah,” agreed Shanty, “she was one great cow, alright!” Like escaped convicts lunging toward freedom, the Victorious Furies leapt off the fence. As they skipped and cart wheeled back to their play area beside the barn, they could see Mr. Mashet tie a rope to Maggie’s hind legs. With a pulley, the Vet hoisted the disemboweled carcass onto his truck and drove away.

The Farmer deserted his remaining herd of cattle and returned toward the house with the recent burden of events in every step. The somber congregation of remaining udder-bearing ruminants attempted to follow the Farmer, all in a row; but, the pasture fence confined their agitation.

Beside the barn on the warm bed of hay, the Three Graces quietly dismembered their dolls. Arms, legs and heads were haphazardly strewn all around. The over-turned doll carriage was filled with contentedly purring cats.

The Triumvirate of pre-pubescent siblings could hear the low vocal rumblings coming from the pasture as a gloomy shadow of their Father passed by. Windy sorted through the scatter of cast-off plastic appendages then reassembled her doll. “We’d better head back to the house,” she suggested. “You two can paint a picture and I’ll write a poem for our deceased Maggie.”

“Sure thing,” agreed Shanty and Bonky. Together, the Little Matriarchs tossed the remaining dismembered dolls into the carriage as the cats scampered back to their nests on the hay. Windy carried her intact pseudo-breast-companion in her arms.

The tired trio hummed inharmoniously as they arrived at the house in subdued form. The peaked threesome thumped their wheeled carriage of delicate cargo parts up the narrow staircase to their bedroom. A rattle, thump, rattle, thump, rattle, thump, bump, bump, bump, resounded through the small farmhouse. The clamorous echo the girls forged with charted ease indicated their expected return….

Purchase Orgasmic Catalog from Trafford Publishing.

Find out more about artist and author Wendy McNally.

Contact Wendy McNally: email

Disclaimer: Orgasmic Catalog is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

The Orgasmic Catalog is also available at the:

Wendy McNally Art Gallery
The Eaton Centre (Toronto, Ontario)
Suite #220, Galleria Offices

Hours: 2pm to 6pm Monday to Friday
or by appointment: 416-775-5457 or 416-585-2000