This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, sexual peccadilloes, or other prurient incidences are entirely the fault of the author's slightly twisted imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, celibate or oversexed, is entirely coincidental.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was a complete disaster, as in a royal F-U-C-K-UP catastrophe. You've heard of a 'life changing' event. Well, this was one. And it all started with a simple mistake, I just hit the wrong damn key on my computer, and the whole chain reaction was inevitable!
Now, I must remember my manners, it isn't good to just ramble on like this to a stranger without even introducing yourself. My name is Janice Johnston, I'm thirty-something (its not polite to ask a lady questions about some things, ) and I live in Dallas. I've always lived in Texas, but I spent some time in San Antonio, and some of my life, during college, in Austin.
I've never been married, but not because I was against marriage, or men or anything — I just never met 'Mr. Right'. I think that I am a reasonably attractive woman. I'm a brunette, with light brown eyes, not too heavy and with curves in all of the right places. I think that I could have been a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, if I could dance worth a lick.
But to understand my little contretemps there are two things you need to know. First, ever since I graduated from college all those years ago, I've been in Real Estate here in the Lone Star State; second is my secret life. You see, I write what some people might call 'racy' stories (some, less tolerant folks might call them 'smut' or even 'porno', ) that I put up on the internet. The two factors combined led to my present situation.
Let me explain. Hope you got a minute.
You always hear folk talking about the three most important things in real estate: location, location, location. That's true, if you're talking about owning a piece of real estate. For a salesperson, the most important thing is that when the client decides to buy or sell, its your name that they remember. I think its true in most kinds of sales.
Anyone in sales will tell you stories about how some close friend or relative, who knows that you are in the business, is suddenly approached one day by a total stranger, who knocks on their door at the moment the idea of selling their home strikes them. So do they call you? Their friend of twenty-years, the person who has swapped recipes with them, baby sat their kids? No! They end up listing the home with some agent literally off the street!
Modern technology, though, has come to the rescue, in the form of the email! I realized early on what a powerful tool for keeping in touch with potential clients the email could be. Now hold on there, don't get the wrong idea — I'm not spamming people with some sort of mass mailing. I send out tasteful materials like recipes, information on the state of home prices, or new laws or regulations pending that people should know about. And it is all personalized — it is a sociable email from me to a friend.
I guess that over time, I've got about 2,000 friends, neighbors, fellow alumni, other real estate brokers, etcetera — you understand, on my email. Some people talk about their power Rolodex; I have my power email list. And it has worked well for me. I don't push it, but about once every month or six-weeks, I get my name out there, just in case anyone starts thinking about buying or selling a house.
To return to my tale; my secret, steamy, romantic stories were the second factor in the 'big change'.
In case you aren't aware of it, there are places on the internet where just ordinary folks can post stories about their sexual fantasies, (and, sometimes, I suspect, real life experiences, ) about all sorts of things that a person could hardy imagine! You know, things like men who want to watch their wives or girlfriends being pleasured by other men or women; folks who have group sex, and that BDSM — Busty Dames and Stiff Men, or some such nonsense. (I never actually read any of those!)
Then there's the really strange categories like 'incest.' I can't even imagine doing that sort of stuff with my Daddy, the deacon; I don't even think Mama would do some of those things with him! And even if I weren't still pissed off at my brother for some of the things him and his friends did to me and my girlfriends while we were in Junior and Senior High School, I certainly wouldn't be attracted to him now, him having gone bald on top, and developed a hellacious beer belly! Yuck!
No, I write about 'Romance', where two attractive people, full of emotions and feelings, overcome misunderstandings and obstacles and opposition from their families, only to find pure love with each other, and live happily ever afterwards. Then to add some spice to the recipe, and to attract the readers, I put in some really steamy sex! Sex sells, that's for sure!
Recently I've also been expanding my repertoire to include 'Erotic Couplings', where my characters know that for some reason or another, they can't be together on a long-term basis, or maybe they don't want to hurt their loved ones, but they still want to have the steamy sex.
Sometimes, as I read over my stories, they make me cry, they touch my heart so!
Writing those stories has been the outlet for my literary imagination, not to mention it has inspired more than one warm and satisfied evening for me, when I was otherwise not engaged. Better than just staring at a poster of Brad Pitt or Mel Gibson.
Online, my 'nom de plume' is 'IsellItInTX.' I think that is so cute, one of those double entendres where, although I know its real estate that I sell, my loyal readers may think that I'm selling something else!
Now anyone of a literary bent will tell you, most of us need an editor to help us with our stories. An editor can help you with all kinds of aspects of your writing. They can find spelling errors, or all of the little things like saying 'to' when it should have been 'too', or silly things like changing a character's name in the middle of a story. Its amazing the mistakes that someone else can find, that you just can't see in your own writing. Editors can be a big help, and I have one of the best!
My editor's name is Lorraine, but her online handle is 'AllmyLvn' — she is a big Beatles fan. She is really good, for one thing, because her college degree was in English, so she knows her stuff. I tell her all the time how much I admire her for her knowledge of literature as well as the technical aspects of writing. She tells me that she admires the fact that unlike most English Lit majors, when I talk to MY customers, I'm not asking, "Do you want french fries with that burger?" Yea, I know, its an old joke, but I still laugh when Lorraine says it.
Anyway, as I was saying, I had finished the rough draft of my newest Erotic Coupling story. In the story, two people had known each other and fallen in love when they were in Junior High, but the boy had moved away. Later, after they had grown up, the boy and girl, now a married man and married woman, had ended up living on the same street together. Even though they were married to other people, who they also loved and didn't want to hurt, they couldn't help themselves, they found themselves alone and finally had to make love with each other, even if only one time. The sex in my story was so hot, so explicit, that it was almost 'art'; it was my pièce de résistance.
I was so excited about the story, that my seat was almost wet as I sent off the draft to Lorraine for her editorial corrections and comments.
It was about 10:00 PM when I shut off my computer for the night and got ready for bed. I have a laptop that I can use both at my office and at home — its so convenient! But I was 'on the floor' at my office at 9:00 the next morning, so I needed to get my full eight hours!
I began to understand early the next morning that something strange was going on.
It started while I was having my breakfast, before I'd even put my makeup on, when the doorbell rang.
There at the door was my neighbor from three houses down, Martha Jean. Now I don't want to sound catty, but Martha Jean could stand to lose a few pounds, in fact, she was kind of chubby. But that made no never mind, because she was a sweetie. At least until then.
I answered the door.
"Martha Jean," I exclaimed, "How nice to see you! How are you this morning?"
Martha Jean was clearly out of sorts. Her face was anything but bright and cheery.
"Janice, if I ever, and I mean ever, catch you with my George, it will be the sorriest day of your life!"
Martha Jean then turned and walked away, while I stared at her back in shock! What was she talking about? George, her husband was a nice enough man, but he was not someone who I would be 'caught' with, if I understood her drift. I couldn't remember if George had tried to hit on me or something at the last neighborhood party. I know I never did anything to encourage him!
I sat back down to my toast and newspaper, when about ten minutes later, my neighbor across the street, Sarah, was tapping at the door.
I answered it again, hoping that whatever Martha had caught hadn't spread.
"Sarah. How are... ," I got out, before Sarah had come right into the house, and had me in the biggest hug I had ever gotten from any woman, except my Mom.
.... There is more of this story ...