Anonymous Pornographer

He became aroused.

"Oh, good. You're awake," she said brightly.

It was a slow, lovely session leaving Heston exhausted. Catalina had been very innovative. The encounter had taken almost two hours.

* * *

"Why did we sleep out here?" asked Catalina, thinking she would take a long bath, giving her lover time to recuperate.

"You dropped off to sleep last night and I couldn't find the key to the house."

Catalina thought that he didn't have to look far.

"It's on the ring with the car key which is in the ignition."

Heston did not hear her. He'd fallen asleep.

Catalina stood up and stretched.

Looking down at his nude figure, he was sleeping on his back, she wondered if she should cover him.

"No, I want to study him. I've not had such an opportunity before, not even with my own husband who doesn't sleep nude."

She looked at him, marvelling that a penis that could become so large and powerful could degenerate into a small wrinkled thing like that.

He carried a bit too much weight, but not as much as her husband.

She began to think about the past twenty-four hours and the fact that she was engaged in adultery.

This is a good time for reflection, she thought.

Did committing adultery make her an evil person? She concluded she didn't think so.

She unlocked the door into the house and began running a bath, getting deeper and deeper into aspects of casual sexual encounters.

In the end, with the water almost cold, she gave up on her random thinking, wondering why bother. She usually did what she pleased and was not answerable to anyone.

Chapter 8

Walking rather stiffly and feeling she'd being a little over-used, Margie wondered why Heston was behaving rather randy and banging her for so long and so frequently.

Christ, he must have been locked in a den of prostitutes while in Europe. Or perhaps he'd found a young divorcee attempting to find herself in her unaccustomed status as his travelling companion and Heston had manfully hammered away at her, reforming her shattered belief that adult males could never again serve any purposeful use in her life. Whatever had happened, Heston obviously had regained his fitness in performing like a stud in the bedroom.

If that wasn't enough, he was now on edge, obviously in excitement. Perhaps one of his European women was due to arrive in some sort of exchange visit involving sex. Well, if that was the case, Heston could entertain her to the full because at her age, Margie thought adamantly, no way would she agree to threesome sex.

On second thoughts, she would refuse to become involved unless the woman was a real honey and a terrific personality with a bias sexually toward females.

Now Margie felt excited.

At almost 6.00 next morning, Heston came into the bedroom already dressed and groomed as if he were off to a business meeting in jeans, open-neck shirt and his favourite casual jacket.

Obviously, something was up.

"You have to promise me something."

Margie sighed, anticipating what this was about.

"Yes, she can stay with us and you may fuck her legless whenever you wish."

For a moment, Heston looked at her as if she was suffering from Rabies.

"Err, don't you have a lush woman coming here?"

He frowned and said with a raised eyebrow, "What woman? There's no woman. I just want you to get dressed and to promise me that you'll not look out of the window. A 'promise or die' level of promise."

Margie was intrigued. In all their married life, Heston had never made her promise anything.

He said grandly, "This is a major surprise. All will be revealed within 30 minutes."

She nodded and crossed her arms over her heart and he left looking excited.

As she dressed, Margie heard the sound of airbrakes and the thumping of the diesel motor of a big truck that pulled up outside their home.

Omigod, Heston had decided to get the spa pool she'd tentatively wanted for her wedding anniversary present. Well, he could use it without her. A big surprise indeed. She'd describe it more like a colossal flop.

About twenty minutes later, Margie heard the truck rumble off and Heston appeared at the doorway looking radiant. She felt guilty she was about to disappointed and schooled herself to mask her total disappointment as much as she could.

"Come with me, my princess," he cooed, immediately making her feel like sex.

Margie took his hand and was led to the front door that was thrown open with a flourish and Heston announced, "Your anniversary present darling; it's all yours."

Here eyes opened in wonder as she gazed upon a gorgeous Mercedes sports car painted in dazzling red with white upholstery within.

"Omigod," she gasped.

"It's pre-owned but with a low mileage, driven only by one woman owner I was told, and is a difficult to obtain model that will become a classic car in due course.

"It's lovely, an amazingly beautiful gift," she oozed, flinging herself at her husband and kissing him lushly with her body smashed up against his. "It's my elusive dream car."

"That's lovely and your reactions have thrilled me no end. I take it I can expect a good rumble tonight."

"Yes indeed, my ass, everything," she enthused.

Maggie went off on a solo drive, at Heston's urging, feeling as she was driving the most eye-catching car in the city, which she probably was. She believed adamantly that it was a car designed and made for her, and never had she felt so beautiful with pedestrians staring at her and her car, with many of them smiling.

* * *

Looking more sophisticated than previously, with stylish new clothing, better make-up and a chic hair-cut, bookstore manager Irma Taylor took a full hour lunch break instead of her usual 20-minute drop-in at a nearby café for coffee and a sandwich.

Still in celebrational mood over her fat salary increase that Margie had given her two days earlier for 'outstanding service delivered above and beyond the performance of average dedicated managers', Irma decided to have a top-shelf lunch.

She entered the Mandalay Bar and Restaurant and a suited guy eating alone that she recognised, waved her over and she headed for his table happily but soon was to be shocked.

"Hi lovely lady, for the moment I forget your name but (lowing his voice to virtually a whisper) said, "I can secretly identify you as the Anonymous Pornographer."

Irma was sure her face had flashed to purple in colour as she fought to control her outrage that one of Margie Mason' large inner-circle of close male friends and apparently, according to Margie, the only one to never have parted her pussy lips, had inconceivably blown Irma's cover as the author using the penname of Chancery Lane to write hot romantic fiction that never could be accurately classified as obscene literature.

She immediately thought of grabbing the water jug on the table and pouring the contents over the slob's head,

But her inner voice screamed don't.

Good advice, Irma thought. That would surely launch him into vengeance mode. In all probability he'd write an article for his newspaper under a name like 'Underground Literary Sleuth' because the content would be totally guesswork. If the claims in the article were untrue and it could be proven he wrote the article, he could be sued for libel in naming Irma Taylor as the mysterious pornographer and the huge secret she'd been keeping from her conservative parents and the extend family would be embarrassingly blown asunder.

She suddenly had mind clarity and remembered the guy's name.

"Oh hi, Mr Llewellyn. It's nice to meet you again. I'm Irma Taylor. Now what's this nonsense about me being the author of a string of erotic books under the uninspiring name of Chancery Lane which is the name of the shopping street where yesterday I purchased this dress I'm wearing? I ask you, do I look like a porn writer?"

"Although I'm a literary editor dear Irma, I can truthfully say I have no idea of what female porn writers look like and my guess is they could look like you and any number of your friends and my female friends too, in much the same way as Prime Ministers don't look the same and neither, taking another example, do night watchmen look the same. Please sit and join me for lunch to prolong this most interesting conversation and to provide me with an articulate and good-looking table companion."

"Very well, although please don't take your codswallop into another direction and suggest I look very much like Jack the Ripper's wife."

Irma was pleased that her off-the-cuff acceptance with a light-hearted reprimand was bound to tickle his intellect and was still laughing at her reply when the entertaining Mr Llewellyn said "Very droll" and told her to call him Paddy.

After exchanging pleasantries, Irma looked over the rim of her wine glass after taking her first sip of a light French white and asked, "When do you propose inviting me to cook dinner for us, Paddy?"

He tried to conceal his surprise, unsuccessfully.

Irma applied the pressure.

"If you are presently dating for sex, then invite her along as well."

Paddy almost chocked on his mouthful of beer.

"You're be-becoming s-surprising unusual," he managed, dabbing his lips with the table napkin.

"I suppose it's my intelligence boosted by a surge of confidence that prompted me to do the asking. I've seen you glance furtively at my body a few times and so I assumed that shooting a cupid arrow in your direction was unlikely to go amiss."

Paddy smiled and appeared back to his usual equilibrium after experiencing one of the few occasions of accepting that a female had out-foxed him.

"A cupid's arrow?"

Irma answered with a big smile.

"Don't panic, I'm inviting you to sample my culinary skills as a means of pushing our vague acquaintance into the start of actual friendship. No thought of possible matrimony was behind my initiative. I figured that a great dinner offer that came out of the blue might, if successful, result in an appreciative erection coming my way. I have been sexually neglected for such a long time and decided to target you to remedy my sexual slump."

Paddy said triumphantly, "Christ what brilliant strategy. It had been eloquently and deviously stated with, I believe, the objective of seducing me into ceasing my investigation into the identify of the mysterious pornographer."

"That's rubbish, Paddy. You know that despite your best efforts, you have got virtually nowhere with your investigation. You know I have denied your claim that I am the mysterious pornographer and have the intelligence to know that if I were that author, it's most unlikely that I would ever confess to being the mysterious pornographer."

"Further, you probably have found that I'm on record as having only one publication under my name, the 'History of My Home District in Mid-Canterbury, New Zealand', written when I was seventeen with a print-run of 2000 copies. It was printed just before I entered university to study English Literature and Creative Writing."

Paddy sighed and said she was spot on, that his investigation had hit a blank wall. The publisher of books written by an author using the non-de-plume of Chancery Lane had refused to disclose the author's real name, saying he'd signed a written agreement to never disclose the author's name except to a Judge of the High Court if ever required to do so.

"Damn, you poor boy," Irma said, leaving Paddy unsure whether she was being sympathetic or cynical.

He sighed and invited her to cook dinner for just the two of them on the coming Saturday night at his apartment.

"Thank you, how wonderful to have your as company all to myself," she cooed.

* * *

Paddy put down his knife and fork in satisfaction, after attacking a splendid roast dinner built around a tasty and beautifully oven-cooked rolled piece of ribeye beef.

"Did you enjoy that?" Irma asked before he'd had time to compliment the visiting cook.

Paddy burped and grinned when the cook said she'd take that as a yes.

Beginning to clear away, Irma said, "Let me play for you to allow out dinner to settle before we have sex."

The reply was, "Sure, go ahead."

Paddy, an occasional film, concert, food and wine and music critic for his newspaper, had assumed Irma would have been aware of that and therefore was likely to be a good pianist.

Within minutes of her beginning a recital, he knew she was qualified to be a polished performer and that surprised him because he was aware she'd grown up on a farm. She must have been influenced by someone close to the family.

Almost an hour later after she'd finished playing non-stop and without sheet music to read from, Irma rose from the piano, and with a flushed face walked over to Paddy and pulled him to his feet.

She said simply, "My mother a university music graduate, taught classic piano playing professionally until retiring when becoming pregnant again when I was 20 months old. She tutored all three of us kids to play the piano and declared that I was the only one to show at a young age that I had the talent to really advance. But alas for her, my passion turned to pony event riding and growing success at that eventually scuppered piano lessons."

"Dessert or the bedroom?"

Caught by surprise by the switch and bluntness of that call for a decision, Paddy's response to to smother Irma in a bout of passionate kissing.

In bed, Irma delighted him with her lush body and rounded skills and eventually she exhausted him, leaving him thinking she was a remarkable woman and clearly didn't mind their age difference.

Drowsily he tossed he tossed her a challenge.

"Are you the Anonymous Pornographer?"

"Yes."

He sighed heavily.

She asked, "What are you going to do about my admission?"

He sighed lightly and said, "Absolutely nothing. Will you from this minute become my regular date?"

"Yes."

They dated heavily and Irma become instantly popular within Paddy's social set.

Six weeks after they began dating, Paddy and Irma announced their engagement and the wedding followed 13 months later with, of course, with her dear friend Maggie as Matron of Honour and the three bridesmaids were close friends from her high school and university days. The three groomsmen were a newspaper colleague and two of his fishing buddies.

A couple of days after the wedding, when the honeymoon couple had just arrived at a resort in Greece, Irma's publishers advised her that sales of full copies of her latest porno e-novel, 'Mayor's Wife Disguised

Internet Porn Queen' exceeded 630,000 in the first 20 days following release, easily topping the 40,878 individual chapter sales. The e-novel was tracking to become a Gold Star seller and already had well surpassed Irma's previous best-seller.

"Darling, I think you should read the presentation e-copy when I received it as Chancery Lane, marking the rapid capturing of 630,000 sales."

"Yes, sure, it's probably a must read," Paddy said. "But for fuck sake, keep your identity as the real author absolutely secret. I've no wish to be known as the husband of a most popular porn writer. My reputation means a lot to me as does my social standing."

"Of course, darling Paddy. Neither would you like the public to know you are married to an almost famous author of any fiction category published in this country."

The End