A Married Woman: An Erotic Romance for Women

A novella. 8200 words, print equivalent 36 pages. An erotic contemporary romance for women. A married woman, on vacation with her husband in the south of France, is suddenly left alone when her husband is called back to New York on business. She falls under the erotic spell of a young gardener and she finds her life changed forever. Warning: Adult language and scenes of explicit sex. Adults only, please! NOT FOR ANYONE OFFENDED BY ADULT SEXUALITY IN ALL ITS VARIATIONS.

PLEASE NOTE: The belief of the Publisher is that human sexual lust in all its forms--heterosexual, gay, lesbian--is a natural consequence of a biological drive constructed by human evolution to protect the survival of the human species. The two most important evolved biological drives are the drive for food and the drive for sexual pleasure. It's a monumental irony that we celebrate one drive with TV food channels, cookbooks, and gourmet restaurants--and at the same time condemn the other drive for no reason that makes any sense. Erotic fiction appeals to different people for different reasons, but in all cases it's probably healthier than stuffing one's gullet with excess food.

INSIDE THIS BOOK:

He was half naked in the heat, wearing only a pair of beige shorts and sandals. She had noticed at other times also that he had a magnificent body--broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles everywhere rippling under sun-bronzed skin. A feast for a woman's eyes. With George gone, she felt free to look all she wanted. The looking aroused her, of course. The humid air, the blue sea in the distance, the half naked young man down there in the garden--the ambience completely erotic.

She had always been faithful to George. He was hardly the best lover of the few she had known before their marriage, but the leisurely life he gave her was enough compensation for whatever her life lacked in the bedroom. She hadn't been that sensuous in her twenties anyway. It seemed her libido had become more intense during her thirties, and now she was forty years old and maybe a woman her age ought to be beyond ordinary erotic disturbances. Wasn't that so? Or was it merely a way to rationalize her circumstance?

In any case, she enjoyed looking at the gardener, at least from the terrace. It occurred to her that apart from the maid she was alone in the house with Alain. He did come into the house sometimes, and this morning they had been close enough in the kitchen so that she caught the scent of his sweat, a heavy musk scent that unnerved her because of its strength and the effect on her. She had moved at once to the terrace to get some fresh air, but the smell of his sweat seemed to follow her no matter where she went outside.

She remembered that now as she looked at him. He was down there in the garden, working in the sun and sweating, and no doubt a cloud of his musk surrounded him.