Chapter 1: Mommy Porn

Jonathan Harcourt nodded to his security team as he entered his Fifth Avenue condominium. His nose was immediately assaulted by a delicious aroma. “Something smells good!” he told the woman who greeted him.

Maria Fernandez smiled. She was the cook and chief of staff for the Fifth Avenue residence. It was Friday evening, and since no parties or dinners were planned for the weekend, the staff had been given the weekend off; Maria was the last of the staff still present. “Gracias. Dinner tonight is an Irish lamb stew, with small loaves of fresh sourdough bread as trenchers. The stew is on warm in a CrockPot.”

“Sounds excellent! Where’s my wife?”

Maria smiled and responded, “Mrs. Harcourt is in the library. She asked that you join her there for a before-dinner drink.”

“Okay.” Jonathan gave a curious look at that.

“And I’ll be going now. I’ll be back on Monday morning.”

“Thank you, Maria.”

She smiled and went to the closet, taking her coat from the closet before leaving. Jonathan nodded as she left and turned towards the library. He dropped his briefcase on the couch and walked down the hall.

He entered the library and said, “Before dinner drinks?” Then he stopped dead in his tracks. Brenda Harcourt was standing there wearing black fishnet stockings, ankle-strapped black stilettos, a transparent black baby-doll top, and a smile. That was it. In between where the top was held together by a single tie and the elastic tops of her stockings the most noticeable thing to notice about Brenda was her five-month baby bump.

“Welcome home, Jonathan.”

“I am loving the look! Uh, did you come down the hallway dressed like that, and if you did, what did Maria say?”

Brenda blushed. “No, I had on a robe. That’s behind the desk. I think she got the idea, though, since she saw I was wearing fishnets and heels.”

Jonathan smiled at his wife. “You have to watch out for women running around in fishnets and heels. What made me curious was the bit about before dinner drinks since you aren’t drinking these days.”

Brenda went to her husband and put her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply and then pushed him backwards. “Take a seat. Did you want me to make you a drink?”

Jonathan sat down in an armchair. “It’s not critical. I am guessing I am having my dessert before dinner?”

Brenda sat sideways on her husband’s lap. “Maybe, if you get lucky, you can have your dessert after dinner, too. How was your day? You haven’t even asked how mine was.”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around Brenda’s waist. “How was your day?”

“Busy, very busy. First, I had an appointment with Doctor Morgenstern...”

Her husband placed a hand on her baby bump. “And how is little Charlie?” Their future son was going to be named Charles William Harcourt.

She patted his hand. “Just fine! Anyway, after that, I went to the spa and had a massage and a facial and a mani-pedi. I even got a fresh Brazilian!”

Jonathan smiled. “I noticed. It looks very enticing.”

“Doctor Morgenstern thought it would be a good idea.”

Her husband’s eyes opened wide. “Your gynecologist thought a Brazilian wax was a good idea?”

“Well, not exactly. She told me, though, that orgasms were excellent ways to release hormones that would be good for me, and I figured that since anything that was good for me would be good for Charlie, a nice Brazilian would make you want to give me orgasms! I did it for the baby!”

“You got a Brazilian for Charlie? You want me to tell him that some day?” he laughed.

She took one of his hands and pushed it down between her legs, sighing at his touch. “Jonathan, doesn’t that feel nice and smooth? I always get so hot and wet when you touch me!”

Jonathan began rubbing his fingers around the smooth skin of his wife’s pussy. Brenda spread her legs apart and whimpered as her husband touched her. His index finger and ring finger spread her pussy lips apart and his middle finger slid into her slit to rub circles around her clit. “Very hot and very wet,” he commented.

Brenda gasped and shivered as he diddled her clit. The arm around her back kept her in position as he fingerfucked her. “Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” she babbled as the pussy juice flooded his fingers and her natural scent blossomed. “Stop! Stop! It’s too much!”

Jonathan laughed and continued his assault on her pussy. “I’ll let you know when it’s too much.”

“Oh God! Oh God! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

After another few minutes, Jonathan stopped fingerfucking Brenda and she sagged against his chest. That didn’t mean he was finished with his wife. He brought his hand up from between her widespread thighs and pulled the tie holding her babydoll top together. As always, he marveled at the perfection of her naked breasts, so large and full, pale yet with huge puffy dark coral nipples. He twisted his face down and began licking the nipple closest to his lips, and then used his moist fingers to toy with her other breast. Brenda pulled his head against her, trying to force her tit into his mouth.

Jonathan continued his pleasurable torment for another ten minutes, alternating breasts as Brenda moaned. Finally, it became too much for him. Pulling his face back, he ordered, “Stand up and bend over the desk!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” She climbed off Jonathan’s lap and skipped over to the desk, bending at the waist and spreading her legs.

Jonathan smiled at the sight, especially when he noticed the shiny black butt plug in place between her impossibly perfect asscheeks. He stood and quickly stripped naked, and then moved behind her. Slipping his impressive erection into Brenda’s pussy, he reached down and jiggled the buttplug. “Is this part of the after-dinner entertainment?”

“Oh God! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Brenda began begging her husband to fuck her fast and hard.

Jonathan smiled as Brenda begged him to fuck her. One part of him wanted to extend his pleasure as much as possible, but the truth was that Brenda had turned him on immensely since she had lured him into the library. He jiggled the buttplug again and that pushed his wife over the edge. Gasping, she collapsed onto the desk as her pussy muscles clamped down on his cock. He gave a final shove and began spurting his cum deep inside her.

It took a minute before Jonathan got his breathing under control, and another minute before he extracted himself from his wife and straightened up. Brenda pushed herself up off the desk and said, “I think that will do for now. I’m going to need a few more treatments later.”

Jonathan laughed. “Sure thing, dear.”

“I’m just obeying the doctor’s orders.”

“Right. Okay, I am going to clean up. When I am back, we can eat dinner. Don’t change. I am going to need some motivation for dessert.”

Brenda Harcourt giggled. She quickly kissed her husband and headed for the bathroom. A quick sink bath and then she would go into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. It was going to be a fun weekend.

Day 0, Thursday

Jack Watson reviewed what he had been typing, nodding to himself silently. He ran the file through a final spell-and-grammar checker, and then saved it. He loaded his mail program and sent it as an attachment to his editor. In the text block, he typed, ‘Final version. Send me back the R and XXX versions and I’ll review. I can start the variants next week.’ Then he closed his laptop and stood, stretching and scratching. As always, when he finished a book, he wondered how in the hell he had ended up a writer.

Jack hadn’t planned on becoming a novelist when he was younger. He had always enjoyed reading and had even taken a creative writing class in high school, but he was smart enough to know that it was exceptionally unusual for somebody to make any money as a novelist. For every Stephen King or Ernest Hemingway, there were ten thousand assholes nobody would ever hear of. When he went to college, he decided on a degree in history. He knew that was another useless degree, but it had to be less useless than English literature; English literature became a minor.

What had changed him was an internship the first semester of his junior year. He got a job with a publishing company, Passionate Allure Publishing Group, as a junior editor. It paid peanuts and involved spell checking, grammar checking, and fact checking. Passionate Allure published romance novels, and Jack was assigned to the historical romance department, where he used his historical knowledge and skill to fact check stories. He found himself informing the editor he reported to that a certain story was incorrect, in that modern bras and panties weren’t available in the mid-1600s. The editor had grumbled and rolled his eyes, but promised to contact the author, and assigned more stories to the college junior.

Some of the errors he found were comically bad. The Irish didn’t lose the Battle of Culloden; the battle was between the English and the Scots. Modern metallic cartridges for firearms weren’t common in America until after the Civil War, and smokeless powder wasn’t common until the late 1880s. Other common errors included when particular styles of clothing were invented or where, when and why certain cities and towns were founded, and any number of other odd facts where needed.

In the meantime, as Jack read the stories he was reviewing, his overwhelming thought was that if Passionate Allure was paying idiots for the dreck he was editing, why not him? He could write at least as well as the crap he was editing. At night, he began writing a historical romance of his own. Pride and Passion was set during the Civil War, with a Union officer vying with a Rebel officer for the heart and hand of a beautiful widow in border state Kentucky. Going back to his high school creative writing class, he had an internal conflict, involving the romantic triangle, and an external conflict, the war, where the two men eventually faced each other on the battlefield.

He mentioned his book to his boss, who rolled his eyes but smiled and promised to read it. Jack printed it out and gave it to him the next day. The next day the senior editor, Harry Reedling, came to him and asked, “You wrote that?”

Jack didn’t like the look in Harry’s eyes. “Yes, sir. Not very good, I guess.”

Harry smiled and shrugged. “It wasn’t half bad. It was actually kind of compelling. I read it last night, which is why I need some sleep. It’s not Faulkner, but it’s not bad. When did you write it?”

Jack explained how he had written the story and how he had done it at night. “Do you think it’s good enough for somebody to publish?”

Harry crossed his arms and nodded. “It needs some editing and some rewrites, but maybe. Spice it up some. We publish romance novels here. This is not great literature. This is mommy porn. And you need to change your name.”

“My name?” asked Jack.

“Women don’t want to read mommy porn written by a guy. Jack Watson can’t write this. Jacqueline Watson, maybe. Or Jacqui-with-an-I. And it’s too long, too many pages. Break it into a trilogy, before the war, during the war, and after the war.”

“Really?” Jack couldn’t believe Harry wasn’t throwing it in the trash!

“Really.”

With that, the professional editor and the college student began a discussion that would lead to a twenty-year collaboration. Over the next two years, as Jack finished his degree, he spent nights and weekends rewriting Pride and Passion into a trilogy, adding sex and excitement, and developing his talent. By the time he graduated, he had a commitment from Passionate Allure as their newest author.

Along the way, Jack learned about the business aspect of the romance novel business. It took discipline to be a writer and make a living at it. He couldn’t simply sit down at his computer and write ten percent of the time and play solitaire ninety percent of the time. He had to do a certain number of words a day and a certain number of chapters a week. He had to develop a plot and block out the chapters ahead of time, and then he had to stick to his plan. Then he discovered a way to multiply his productivity immensely.

The Pride and Passion trilogy was published shortly after his graduation, with a volume coming out every eight months. According to Harry Reedling, that would maximize his income stream since it built anticipation among the readers. Some readers would skip the first book, then buy the second or third book and go back and buy earlier books. Every time Jacqui Watson published a story, there would be a bump in sales for earlier stories.