| Author: | Secret Narrative | ISBN: | 9781310392368 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC | Publication: | August 27, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Secret Narrative |
| ISBN: | 9781310392368 |
| Publisher: | Boruma Publishing, LLC |
| Publication: | August 27, 2014 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
Sixty-something teacher, Sylvia, no longer recognises her reflection, so she takes on a private student to help fund a face-lift. She soon discovers that Simon Conrad isn’t stimulated by English literature, but Sylvia approaches teaching and learning with an irresistible passion sure to ignite interest.
~~ Excerpt ~~
It’s decaying. All decaying. I wonder in which of my decades I lost sight of my magnetism. Not in my forties. I spent the first week of my fourth decade in Amsterdam. Sex shows, peep shows, coffee shops and unlimited sex with my then partner. Addicted to each other and addicted to sex, we made the most of our mutual mojo in a long 69 of insatiable gobbling. When I turned fifty, he left me for a younger, blonder version of my forty-year-old self.
I wasn’t alone for long. Bill arrived, older than I was by ten years with a love of submission and domination games. He nurtured my carnality throughout my fifties with a series of sex-games, voyeurism, orgies and an almost over-indulgence of all things sex-related. He never suffered erectile dysfunction and I took advantage by riding him relentlessly. Just after my sixtieth birthday, we found out about his weak heart when he suffered a massive coronary at the point of orgasm and died during the ride. He left his body to science so he’s still an education.
And now, for the first time, I don’t recognise the woman I see in my room of mirrors. I wonder if I should have a face-lift, as I experimentally smooth the skin under my chin. I pull backwards and upwards with both hands, creating a stretched, not altogether attractive reflection. My lips are still full… All the better to eat you with. I make an appointment with a Harley Street surgeon, and take on a private teaching job to help pay his bill.
Simon Conrad is an English Literature ‘A’ Level resit. His father is rich and has an ego the size of St Paul’s Cathedral. I am invisible in his presence. The knowledge that at one time he would have served at my feet annoys me more than it should. But his son is different. I can smell him, he reminds me of my classroom years, when teenage crushes pervaded the atmosphere. The family live in Hertfordshire, Laura Conrad is glamorous and Simon has inherited her good looks. My rules include the caveat that an adult is always in the home at the same time as my student and me; it protects us all from inconvenient issues.
The boy needs four ‘A’ grades to be accepted by his first choice college. I have been hired to hot-house him and make sure he achieves his full potential. That’s the easy part. It’s my private hot house I’m worried about, it seems to burn in his presence and warms my solitary bed at night.
Sixty-something teacher, Sylvia, no longer recognises her reflection, so she takes on a private student to help fund a face-lift. She soon discovers that Simon Conrad isn’t stimulated by English literature, but Sylvia approaches teaching and learning with an irresistible passion sure to ignite interest.
~~ Excerpt ~~
It’s decaying. All decaying. I wonder in which of my decades I lost sight of my magnetism. Not in my forties. I spent the first week of my fourth decade in Amsterdam. Sex shows, peep shows, coffee shops and unlimited sex with my then partner. Addicted to each other and addicted to sex, we made the most of our mutual mojo in a long 69 of insatiable gobbling. When I turned fifty, he left me for a younger, blonder version of my forty-year-old self.
I wasn’t alone for long. Bill arrived, older than I was by ten years with a love of submission and domination games. He nurtured my carnality throughout my fifties with a series of sex-games, voyeurism, orgies and an almost over-indulgence of all things sex-related. He never suffered erectile dysfunction and I took advantage by riding him relentlessly. Just after my sixtieth birthday, we found out about his weak heart when he suffered a massive coronary at the point of orgasm and died during the ride. He left his body to science so he’s still an education.
And now, for the first time, I don’t recognise the woman I see in my room of mirrors. I wonder if I should have a face-lift, as I experimentally smooth the skin under my chin. I pull backwards and upwards with both hands, creating a stretched, not altogether attractive reflection. My lips are still full… All the better to eat you with. I make an appointment with a Harley Street surgeon, and take on a private teaching job to help pay his bill.
Simon Conrad is an English Literature ‘A’ Level resit. His father is rich and has an ego the size of St Paul’s Cathedral. I am invisible in his presence. The knowledge that at one time he would have served at my feet annoys me more than it should. But his son is different. I can smell him, he reminds me of my classroom years, when teenage crushes pervaded the atmosphere. The family live in Hertfordshire, Laura Conrad is glamorous and Simon has inherited her good looks. My rules include the caveat that an adult is always in the home at the same time as my student and me; it protects us all from inconvenient issues.
The boy needs four ‘A’ grades to be accepted by his first choice college. I have been hired to hot-house him and make sure he achieves his full potential. That’s the easy part. It’s my private hot house I’m worried about, it seems to burn in his presence and warms my solitary bed at night.
