Excerpt from the Forthcoming Erotic Tale: THE TAKING OF MRS. JONES

December, 1954

The Man lifted his face from between Angelina’s thighs, away from her most intimate place.

The tidal wave of bliss that for delicious minutes had washed away her embarrassment receded, leaving her shame laid bare. She had never before felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Adding to her embarrassment was that she’d never been made to feel what The Man just made her feel with his boldly deviant act. With his mouth and tongue he had transformed her. He had made her become someone else; a woman she didn’t recognize.

The Man crawled up and over her until he perched above her, bracing himself on his lean-muscled arms. He stared down at her. Under his knowing examination her face burned. She could not meet his gaze because her eyes could not deny what he had done to her—what he’d made her become: that woman she didn’t recognize.


He spoke her name gently. Angelina closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see her shame and her truth.

With her face turned away and her eyes closed she said, “What is it?”

She felt his masculine desire brush along the inside of her thigh. The contact made her shudder—or was it the memory of that weekend last month that made her body respond to him?

“I want you,” he said, confirming his body’s demonstration.

Curiously, The Man’s tone sounded like a request. Angelina wondered why this time he would bother to ask. When he’d taken her before—when her husband offered her as payment for their debt—The Man had not asked her permission. He’d taken her from their apartment to his home and told her what he wanted and what he required her to do. Because she and Charlie owed The Man so much money there was no question that she would comply. So why would he ask her now, as if they were courting and he required her permission for intimacy?

Angelina opened her eyes but kept her face averted. She didn’t need to see The Man. The memories of his handsome face and his varied expressions were etched in her memory.

The first time—on the Friday evening last month that began the weekend of her taking—she had prayed to God for deliverance from her burden. By that Saturday morning she had thanked God that at least The Man was handsome. On Sunday, during the hours when she would normally have been in church, she’d known she was going to Hell if she didn’t repent for becoming what The Man had made her become. He had used her, yes. But while complying with his demands she had become someone else. That guilt, that sin, was hers.

And now, this second time, because she and Charlie still could not pay what they owed, The Man seemed to be asking her for what he’d simply taken before. Angelina wondered if that was why he’d done this new decadent thing to her, using his mouth and tongue to make her become someone entirely new again. Was that his way of making an apology?


Without looking up at him she asked, “What am I to you?”

“You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing on my mind at night. I can’t even guess how many times you cross my mind throughout every day.”

This was Charlie’s fault, she thought. If he hadn’t gambled away the rent money they wouldn’t owe The Man so much. If Charlie had been more responsible she wouldn’t be away from home in a strange city, naked in a hotel bed with a man she wasn’t married to.

“You use me,” Angelina said. “Why do you need to think about me at all?”

“I can’t honestly answer what I don’t know,” The Man said. “I only know what is. I know I want you.”

“We owe you money. That’s why I…we…you know…”

“Are you upset with me about before, about last month?”

Angelina’s face no longer burned, but hot moisture stung her eyes. “The things you made me do…”

“I was mad at Charlie for being a deadbeat. But you were angry at him too. I felt your anger in bed, Angelina. We were both punishing him.”

“What do you want? Why did you buy me that dress today and take me to that party tonight?” Angelina thought about what The Man had just done to her with his mouth and tongue, but couldn’t dare mention that. What he’d done was so obscene, and… “Was that your way of saying you’re sorry?”

“I did it because tonight I want you to kiss me.”

“Is that really necessary?” Angelina told herself that she had not just shuddered again.

“I’d like it if you did,” The Man said. “I’d like to think that this time you’re here with me—really with me. Do you understand?”

Angelina turned her face to look up at The Man. In the depths of his eyes she saw his truth.

She considered that she wouldn’t be here if Charlie had been less selfish and more responsible. She wouldn’t be here if her own husband hadn’t offered her as payment the way a farmer would offer a cow. This was not her doing. Whatever happened, the responsibility lay on Charlie’s shoulders.

Angelina lifted her face to The Man and offered him her kiss.

She became someone else—that woman she didn’t recognize. She decided she would get to know her.



Taking of Mrs Jones Cover-500

Posted on December 11, 2014, in Books, erotica and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.

  1. Very nice. No . . . not nice. Hot and intriguing.

  2. Professor I can not wait to read this !

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