When George Aloysius Brown, a retired civil servant, accepts a challenge from his creative writing teacher to ‘step outside his comfort zone’ and write erotica, his research leads him into a bizarre world of strange and fascinating characters.
He visits a S&M club where he befriends a trainee dominatrix who wants to be a ballet dancer. He auditions for an adult movie directed by a titled lady. He visits a librarian who entertains “assertive older gentlemen.” George enjoys his new life as a researcher until he buys telephone sex from a B grade movie actress and it all goes horribly wrong.
The plot thickens when he forms a literary alliance with Catherine Mallory Jones, a beautiful Cambridge University graduate and aspiring romance writer, who has a dark sexual past. When her past catches up with her and she fears for her life, she turns to George for help. Their friendship deepens and there is one final improbable adventure. Purchase on Amazon.
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*About the Author* Award-winning journalist Alan Daniels was a daily newspaper reporter and editor in London, Sydney, Hong Kong and Vancouver. Married with children, he is currently working on his second novel.
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And now the excerpt!
*Catherine loses her composure when she meets a boy from Sunday School at a
church hall dancc *
Outside the hall there was a pathway that led to the front portal of
the church and for no reason other than to be alone we set off along it,
our shoes making a scrunching sound on the gravel.
There was a sliver of moon that came and went behind high clouds and
in the western sky was the last of a thin sunset and a flock of crows
heading to their evening roost. Behind a marble mausoleum we stopped and
kissed hungrily. I felt his hand on my breast and I could feel something
pressing against me. He took my hand and guided me to it, but I pulled away.
“Not here. I know a place,” and we ran to it across the graveyard as
if the demons of hell were behind us.
There was a wrought iron stairwell at the rear of the church that
led to the basement and an arched wooden door flecked with cobwebs that
looked like it hadn't been opened in a thousand years. No one would see us
down there. The space beneath the stairs smelled of stale incense and old
prayer books, or so it seemed to me, although it was more likely rat poo
and decaying leaves, autumn's wind drift blown against the cold, stone
buttresses. We clutched at one another like drunks, kissing passionately,
breathing hard, fumbling in near total darkness with hooks and zippers
reluctant to yield. Josh wrestled my bra off and had it in his hand as if
unsure what to do with it before stuffing it in his trouser pocket.
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