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Raw, Rowdy Rockstar

BDSM Romance

Olivia Hill
Raw, Rowdy Rockstar

Chapter 1

Allison Burgess had a smile on her lips as she watched the final song
in The Maniacs’ set. The band was amazing in a

word but the person who really caught her attention in the band was
the lead singer, Noah Zimmerman. She just could not seem

to get her eyes off him. She was not sure whether it was the way
she had managed to connect with him on a personal level

throughout his tour. When he was off that stage, when he was
talking to her, he was not just another member of the band. With

her, he was not a Maniac but plain old Noah Zimmerman. The man
who opened up to her about all his insecurities. She shook

her head when she heard the familiar piercing noise when Noah
dropped the microphone as he always did at the end of every

performance.

She was clapping as the band walked by her to the backstage.

“How was that?” Noah asked when he got to where she was.

“Honestly, I liked tonight’s rendition better than the set at Madison

Square Garden.” He looked at her and smiled.

“Yeah, stop gloating,” he said and she shrugged.

“What do you mean gloating?” she asked as one of the production

assistants came to get his earpiece and clip-on

microphone.
“You think I don’t know that you were the one who suggested an
acoustic set going upbeat?” He asked and she smiled.

“Starting off soft and finishing with a bang has always been your
idea.”

She nodded. He was right. She had been trying to get him to try
softer versions of his music ever since she met him

especially after hearing a cover version of his hit single Poison

Romance from a couple of kids on YouTube. She thought that

performing cover versions of some of his music would put him more
in touch with a different kind of crowd and judging by the

crowd that had turned up at his last concert in Nashville, a place his
Noah’s entire PR team thought would be a bust. To think

that Noah Zimmerman had actually managed to get a following with

the country loving public of America was actually

amazing. She looked away when she felt her cheeks flushing. It had
been happening a lot lately.

“I should get going…create a buzz about the last concert and

everything,” Allison said and he shrugged.

“Right now?” he asked.

“Yeah, the iron is still hot. I should probably strike it right now.”

He looked around and a smile played on his perfect lips. Everyone

was busy…with something, the perfect situation he

needed to take her away from there. He suddenly took her hand in
his and before she could say anything in protest.
“What are you doing?” she finally managed to say when he walked
her to his dressing room. He looked into her eyes as

she leaned against the door before he put a hand on the door.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” Noah said in a whisper as he out
his other hand on the other side of her head,

literally trapping her. He took a step forward and pinned her against
the door with his body making her gasp.

“Noah …” she started before he brought his head down. His lips
were so close to her chin that she could feel his warm

breath on her skin.

“What? What do you want?” he asked in a whisper.

“I want to go,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “I need to go.”

“No you don’t,” he said in a whisper. “You know exactly what you
need and it is not leaving this place.”

She took a long deep breath and opened her eyes. But even then,
she could not bring herself to look into his eyes. Her

eyes were fixed on the floor and he pressed his lips to her chin. She
whimpered softly and felt a tingle down her spine.

“Look at me, Allison,” he said in a commanding tone. The way he

said it made her obey him almost a little too fast. She

looked into his almost cold grey eyes and a smile played on his lips
again. Her heart was racing and her hands were shaking

almost too violently she was scared she was going to drop the iPad
she had in her hand. She knew he wanted to kiss her and
she would have wanted nothing less at that moment.

“I need to go, Noah,” she said again, this time looking right into his
eyes. What he didn’t know was that she was trying

as hard as she could to maintain eye contact. He looked at her as

she fumbled with her backstage pass hanging from her neck.

She was not very sure if he had noticed but she always did that
when she was nervous. But then again, he had only known her

for a couple of months…so far.

“Okay, Burgess,” he said as his eyes ran down her curvy body. “Go
strike that iron then.”

Her fingers tightened around the edges of her iPad as she turned
around and began walking away from Noah. She could

feel his eyes on her as she turned the corner and stepped out of the
Nashville concert hall. Her heart was pounding almost as

fast as she was walking…probably faster. The cool evening breeze on

her bare arms was not helping the fact that she could

feel a cold bead of sweat slowly running down her spine. She walked
to the parking lot and smiled at a cab driver who had just

dropped off a customer.

“Homeland Suites, please,” Allison said when she climbed into the
back of the cab. She noticed the driver smile at her

on the rearview mirror as she strapped herself in. She leaned back
and closed her eyes, sighing loudly.

“What are you doing, Allison?” she wondered as the cab began
driving out of the parking lot. She knew that the warm
fuzzy feeling she had been having lately any time she was around
him was not just about being in the company of a handsome

rock star. And judging by how friendly the two had become while on
tour, she knew she was in trouble. The last time she had

felt this way was back in college when Andrew Lancer, the
quarterback first talked to her. But what he felt for Noah was a

whole lot more than what she once felt for Andrew. To make matters
worse, the two had come dangerously close on a number

of occasions lately. Two weeks earlier in Arizona, and then a week

later at the Staples Center, four days before then in the

Oracle Arena as he did his sound check and most recently, at

Madison Square Garden. But the incident at Madison Square

Garden was the one that really freaked her out.

After The Maniacs were done with their set, Allison had gone ahead
to post all the information needed to create the

necessary buzz needed for their next performance. As a music

journalist with Lyrically Sound magazine, she had so much more

work to do as far as Noah Zimmerman was concerned. Being the

best journalist in her genre had her in Phillip Keene’s sight.

Phillip Keene was The Maniacs’ manager and after the band’s first
successful album, a worldwide tour was imminent but not

before they toured the Americas to find out just how a world tour
would have worked out. Phillip’s plan was to have the best

people in PR to get the world talking about The Maniacs and as far
as Allison was concerned, she had done her part. It was not
just people in the Americas talking about the world’s newest and
most rocking band but her work had every country on the

globe demanding for a tour date. Audiences as far as Johannesburg,

Manila and Hong Kong had started a

# BringTheManiacsOver following on every social media site…That

had been her job description, to make the band the next

big thing but she had done more than that. She had made them the
biggest thing in the world of music but in the process, she had

connected with Noah in a way she had never thought possible. She
had always seen him on tabloid photos with the who’s who

in the fashion and film industry. There was no way she could have
ever thought that he could ever be interested in someone like

her…a plump woman who had to count calories rather than a skinny
model, or maybe actress.

When she got to her hotel room, she tossed her purse on the bed
and walked over to the full length mirror. She sighed as

she looked at her reflection.

“Plus size my foot…I’m just fat. Not big boned, not full figured…fat.”
She held her dress top at the back tightening it

so that her folds showed through the fabric.

She exhaled loudly as she closed her eyes picturing Noah. He was
every woman’s ideal man: tall, lean, muscular with

shoulder length hair that Allison thought made him look a little like
Avery Barkley from Nashville which was a little ironic
considering where they were. She sighed and walked back to the
bed. She grabbed her laptop and turned it on. Even though she

was looking at the blank screen, she could not really bring herself to
typing anything. She pulled up the photos from the concert

and scrolled through wondering which pictures would inspire her

work more. She was not sure how long she had been staring

at her computer when she heard a knock on her door. She looked at
the bottom right hand corner of her screen and frowned.

“Whoever it is, I hope they brought me a couple of cans of Red Bull,”

she thought as she walked to the door.

“Noah,” she said in a gasp when she opened the door. “What are
you…when…” she shook her head and then looked

down the hall to see if his security detail was around.

“So are you going to let me in or are you just going to stand there
looking at me saying nothing?” he asked as she looked

into his eyes. She took a long minute before she stepped aside so
that he could walk in. She could tell that he had not gone back

to his suite because he was in the same blue jeans and white graffiti
T-shirt he had been in when he was performing earlier that

night. She closed the door and looked at him as he walked over to
the bed. Her mind was a maze of wild thoughts. She could

not help but wonder why he was in her room instead of at the after
party with the rest of the band.

“What are you doing here, Noah?” she asked as she looked at him.
“If I have to tell you why I am here then maybe you are a little more
in denial than I initially thought,” he said as he

walked up to where she was. She bit her lower lip as she felt him
slip an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him.

She was breathing hard and heavy as she smelt his musky scent all
around her.

“Noah,” she said in a whisper.

“Arizona, California, New York.” He slipped a hand under her thick

red hair and gently held her neck. “You know

exactly what I am doing here.”

“It can’t happen….it just can’t.” She looked at him as he gently

pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “I am not your

type. I am not the kind of woman that you…” she never got a
chance to finish what she was saying.

“Would you just shut up for one second?” he asked before he

brought his head down and claimed her lips in one long

passionate kiss. His kiss was everything she had imagined: wild,
deep and passionate. His tongue was on hers caressing and

massaging, and his hand was pressed hard against her back holding
her body against him. She was almost breathless by the

time he finally pulled away. “Did anyone ever tell you, you talk too
much,” he said in a whisper.

Allison looked up at him and her were slightly lips parted. She
wanted to talk, say something…anything really. But she

was dumbfounded.
“You can’t just do that, Noah,” she finally said in a soft voice. He
shrugged.

“And why not?” he interlaced his fingers with hers and raised her
hands above her head pinning them against the

wooden door. “Did I maybe do something you didn’t want?”

She didn’t answer. She actually couldn’t answer.

“I want you, Allison,” he said in a soft voice. “And you want me. I
can feel it in the way you kissed me back, and I can

see it in the way you are looking at me.” He reached behind her and
locked the door before he began pulling her towards the

bed. She did not know what he had in mind but she didn’t have the
willpower to just push him off or something of the sort.

When they got to the bed, he stopped and looked at her, his hands
on her waist. He gently pulled away from her and sat down

on the edge of the bed.

“Take off your clothes,” he said and she raised an eyebrow over the
other.

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“Take your clothes off,” he said again without batting an eyelid. The
tone in his voice made her realize that he meant

business.

“Noah, I don’t know how this usually works for you and the other
women you are used to…” she started before he stood

up and pulled down the zipper on the back of her dress top.
“Just do it, Allison,” he said in a soft voice. “I don’t care about those
other women. You are the one I want.”

“But...” she started before he pressed a finger on her lips.

“I have my own skeletons too…and I want to share my secrets with

you, Alison,” he said in a low voice.

Allison could feel the fabric of her dress slipping off her shoulders
but she held the top against her breasts preventing it

from slipping off. She took a step back and her gaze fell to the floor.
She could feel her heart racing as she stood in front of

him, her top almost coming off.

“I might be what you want for right now but you are… you and I
am…well me.” She shook her head. “You and I both

know that this will not work.” She shrugged. “Just leave before we
make a mistake.” Her last sentence was barely toned out

well enough for him to hear her. But that didn’t matter. He pulled her
hands away from her chest and in one swift move pulled

the two sides of her top apart leaving her in her bra and panties.
She looked at him, a little surprised as he put his hands on her

waist.

“I know exactly what I want, Allison.” He gently pushed off her tights
and looked into her eyes as he slowly got on his

knees. He pulled her tights all the way down and gently kissed her
upper thigh. “This is what I want.”

He brought himself back up and held the side of her face.

“I will punish you for making me wait,” he said in a soft voice.

“What?” she asked as he sat back down.

“Take it off before I tear it off,” he said and even though she was a
little hesitant, she did it anyway. She looked at him

as her bra came lose to allow her breasts to hang loosely on her
chest.

“Panties too,” he commanded and she very slowly pushed it off with
her shaky hands. “Good girl,” he whispered as he

looked at her.

As she stood there, she was not very sure what he had in mind.
There she was standing naked in front of him and he was

still fully dressed, literally watching her. He held his hand out and
she put a hand in his so that he could pull her to where he

was. She stood in between his legs as he looked into her eyes.

“This is what I want,” he said in a soft voice. She closed her eyes
when she felt him gently raising his hands caressing

her up to her ass. She gasped when she felt his fingers digging into
her flesh. “I can’t tell you, how long I have waited to have

you here…to have you in my arms,” he said in a whisper as he got

up. He brought a hand up and gently brushed her hair off as

he looked into her eyes. She exhaled lightly as he gently lowered his
head to meet her lips in a long slow kiss. She gently

angled her head as he kissed her. She was exhaling into his mouth
when he held a lock of her hair, holding her against himself.
When she pulled away, she could feel his cock hard against her
thigh.

“Can you feel that? Can you feel how much I want you?” he
whispered in her ear and she nodded. “I want you to do

something for me,” he said before taking her earlobe in between his
teeth. “When it gets too much, I want you to tell me to

stop.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked as a naughty smile played
on his lips. He sat back down and patted his lap.

“I’m about to show you the other side of me.” He pulled her down
and ran a hand down from her shoulder to her breast.

“The real me.”

Allison could almost guess what he was about to do. She had after
all been caught up in the Fifty Shades drift with the

rest of the world. Her heart was racing as she lay on his lap. The
minute she felt his hand come down on her, she immediately

knew what she was in for.

Chapter 2

As she shifted her weight on her seat, Allison was reliving the
previous night over and over. At the back of her mind,

she kept on thinking that maybe she should have sat out the next
trip. But she didn’t want to look like she was acting weird even

though there was nothing normal about that particular day. The
truth was that she had let the lead singer of the band she had
been covering have his way with her and she was now meant to act
like everything was normal…and everything was, except

for the fact that her ass was stinging from all the spanking she got
last night. From the corner of her eye, she could see Noah

looking at her as he talked to his bandmates and it took everything

she had not to just run over to where he was.

“Burgess, good work with the blogs,” Phil said as he walked past.
“Way better than the shit TMZ prints,” he added

before he sat down.

“Actually,” Moira Sutton, Noah’s personal assistant said as she sat

down next to her. “TMZ is a gossip site so of course

they are going to print shit.” She looked at Allison and smiled.
“Maybe you should just quit your day job and set up your own

site.”

Allison smiled and rolled her eyes.

“So far, I like the perks of the job,” she said as she looked around. “I
don’t think I am ready to give it all up yet.”

“Speaking of giving up, my boss went MIA on me last night,” Moira

said and Allison feigned seriousness.

“He did?” she asked.

“Yeah, just after you left. I mean one minute he was there and then
the next thing I know I can only see three of the

Maniacs.”
Allison pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and tapped her
pen on the journal she had in her hand.

“Maybe he needed to catch up with an old friend or something,” she

said and Moira shook her head.

“In Nashville? It was a last minute venue plus it’s not like he is all
buddy-buddy with Carrie Underwood or something,”

she said.

“Is Carrie Underwood the only country musician you know?” Allison
asked.

“Well, there was that time I met Lady Antebellum and Eric Church…
so, there is that.” Moira took a long sip of her

water and shrugged. “And I know Noah keeps in touch with Taylor
Swift but I don’t think she lives in Nashville anymore.”

Allison smiled as she shook her head.

“She still has a place in Nashville but she spends most of her time in
New York or her California beach house.

Everyone knows that.” She stole a glance at Noah again before she
turned back to Moira. “I’m sure your boss s fine. I think he

just needed some time alone.”

“Allison Burgess, do you know something I don’t?” she asked and

Allison shrugged.

“What would I know?” she asked. “I’m just a journalist.”

“Yes, and you guys usually know everything before the world does,”
Moira pointed out.
Allison felt her cheeks flush.

“Well, this time round, you know so much more than I do, Moira,”
she said before she opened up her journal again.

“Do you always do that?” Moira asked pointing at her journal. “I’ve
never really seen you with a notepad and pen, not

even in an interview.”

Allison shrugged and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I guess I didn’t have anything interesting to

write about until now,” she said. Moira shook her

head in confusion.

“Wait, what’s happening now?” she asked. Allison panicked.

“Think fast,” she thought as she looked at Moira , the only other
person she had managed to get close to on the tour.

“Are you kidding? I’m on tour with The Maniacs,” she said in a soft
but excited voice. “Honestly, I don’t think it can get

any better than this.”

“Sometimes I wish it could get a little better than this,” Moira said in
a soft voice. “I mean look at them?” she asked as

she gestured at the group of skinny girls giggling and chatting up

the band. “It’s like there is nothing more important than

dressing slutty and getting a spank from a Maniac.”

Allison grinned and shrugged.

“The band members are pretty cute, you have to admit,” she said.
“Yeah, they are but seriously, do we always have to have the
groupies all over the world?” Moira asked and she pointed

to one of the girls who was busy twerking as the band mates looked
on. “That is just sad.”

“Come on, they are having fun,” Allison said.

“Yeah, which brings me to the fact that my boss has been very
unfriendly with the company lately. Noticed that?”

Allison shrugged.

“No…not really,” she said.

“You cannot be serious…he is right there and he doesn’t even look at

the half naked girls,” Moira said.

“Moira, I need another cronut!” Eli, the guitarist called out before
Allison could answer and Moira rolled her eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder just who the heck I am working for in this

band,” she said as she stood up and walked away

leaving Allison alone. She hated that she had to lie to Moira. She
was the only one who really knew her. Even Noah didn’t

know as much as Moira did. At least not yet. She sighed.

“Not yet. I am actually thinking of spending more time with him,”

she thought. “Even after last night.”

She looked at her now almost half written page and sighed again.
For a journalist, she was having quite a hard time

putting down her thoughts. But maybe it was because this was no
ordinary diary entry. It was one that told the story of the
previous night’s events to the very last detail…

I had been holding on to the bedding and counted to twenty five

before he finally stopped. I didn’t even think I would

have been able to endure for that long but I had. He gently caressed
my now hot ass as I lay there, panting. From the books

and stories I had read, I was not so sure what to expect since he
was in my hotel suite. So obviously there were no toys to

play with. But the way he handled me…he was so rough and gentle
at the same time. He was making me scream and moan

all at once. It was almost like he was striking the perfect balance.
After twenty five spanks I thought I had seen it all but

more was yet to come. He grabbed my tights and used them to tie
my hands to the bed spokes and that was when I came to

know exactly how he liked having his fun. I had not pictured him as
the dark Christian Grey type but the way he was

hovering his hand over my skin making my skin feel like very hair on
my body was awake.

He looked at me and began to slowly caress my already erect

nipples. I was already wet as he caressed me gently.

But even then I could feel the urgency in the soft caresses. He
brought his mouth down and kissed my neck softly before he

began working his way down my body. I raised my head and looked
at him as he put his hands on my knees and spread them

wide.

“Noah…” I uttered but he didn’t want to hear anything I had to say.

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to,” he told me in a soft commanding
voice. He was gently caressing my soft inner thigh

and I kept on expecting him to spank me, hard. But he didn’t.

Instead, he lowered his head and engulfed my soft mound with

the heat of his mouth. I let out a long low moan when he began
flicking his tongue on my overly sensitive clit. This was all

too much for me because I hadn’t had anyone do that for me…in a
while. I was writhing and moaning and he was kissing,

flicking and sucking. By the way he was going I knew that it was not
going to be long before I exploded and he was already

dipping his tongue into me tasting me, fucking me.

“Tell me what you want,” he said when he pulled away and I opened
my mouth to speak but all I could do was just

moan. He pushed in two of his fingers to test my wetness and I

shook wildly. He was fingering me in and out, hard and

fast...I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to say or even how he

wanted me to say it. “Tell me, Burgess.”

“I want you,” I finally managed to say.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asked again.

“I want you…I want you to fuck me,” I admitted just as I felt my

walls giving way.

“Don’t do that. Don’t cum yet,” he said. “I haven’t allowed it yet.”

Was he kidding me? He was taking me to places I had only ever

thought of. His finger in me and his thumb on my clit
made it almost impossible for me to have sound reasoning –“

“You know I don’t have a show until later tonight,” Allison suddenly
heard Noah’s voice making her look up. She

slammed the journal shut and shrugged.

“And?” I asked.

“And I want to have some alone time,” he said as he sat down next
to her. “With you.”

She shook her head and shrugged.

“Noah, I don’t think that all this is…” she started before he took her
hand in his.

“Don’t think, Allison. Just do it,” he said just as the pilot announced
that they were beginning the descent in Tampa.

“But Tampa is the last venue before…” she started and he gently
squeezed her hand. “Everything goes back to normal

after this.”

“What do you mean everything goes back to ‘normal’?” he asked.

“I live in Tampa, remember?” Allison asked and he shrugged.

“So what?” he asked and she shook her head.

“So the time the office gave me to cover you will be over in a couple
of days and then it’s back to desk duty for me,” she

explained. “And you will be back to…basically this,” she said as she
looked at the rest of the band where they were busy

messing around with some blond groupies.

“I told you,” he said as he looked into her eyes. “You are what I
want. You are who I need.”

Alison wanted to have a comeback but it seemed near impossible.

She could not think of a logical thing to say because

he always had something to say. And it was always something she

couldn’t ever answer.

Chapter 3

All Allison could think about as she rode in the cab back to her
apartment was what Noah had said. He had made it very

clear that he wanted her but all she knew was that as far as rock
stars were concerned, commitment was not something that they

considered in their prime and Noah Zimmerman was in the damn

prime of his career.

“We’re here miss,” the cab driver said in a heavy Middle Eastern
accent. She gave him a fifty dollar bill and he

frowned. “But your ride was only nineteen fifty,” he said and she
shrugged.

“I’m sorry…I don’t have anything smaller,” Allison said.

“But all I have is a five…my wife said she wanted money for
groceries and the ATM machine ate her card…” Allison

was trying hard not to smile but it was almost impossible not to find
his ordeal funny. “Short story, she took all my cash and

said that if I wanted to have my giaourtlou kebabs I had to give her

the money I had and…” Allison put a hand up and smiled.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she said as she opened the door.
“You can keep the change.”

“Thank you so much miss,” the driver said as she got her bags from
the trunk.

“Don’t mention it,” she said before she turned around and walked
into her building.

“Great,” she thought as she walked towards the elevator. “I just paid
fifty bucks for a twenty buck ride.”

When she got to her apartment, she opened the door and took a
long deep breath. She looked around and frowned.

“I should probably get to cleaning this place,” she said to no one in

particular as she dropped her bags by the door. She

had been away from her apartment for almost eight weeks and she
could tell that her cleaning lady had obviously not being

truthful about keeping her end of the weekly cleaning deal they had
struck. But after almost ten hours on her feet, she was

exhausted. Vacuuming and dusting would have to wait until she had
taken a long shower and had a sandwich or something. She

had just began taking off her t-shirt when she heard her phone
vibrating in her pants pocket. She pulled it out of her pocket and

sighed when she saw Noah’s number on the screen. She had only
had the number for a few days but she already knew it off

head. The two had not had a chance to talk after landing in Tampa.
After all, there were two concerts in the state of Florida in

two days…Phil’s exhausting idea of ending the tour with a bang. It

had been great especially the fact that Allison and Noah had
been too busy to sneak a chat but it had also being immensely
tiring.

Allison was not sure whether she should answer Noah’s call or just
ignore it. She wanted to do more than cleaning that

night. She also wanted to finish her journal entry and maybe try and
stretch the truth a little, try her hand at fiction writing. She

was still trying to figure out whether to just hit ignore and head on
to the bathroom when she felt her phone vibrating in her

hand as a message came in.

I know you are in your apartment ignoring my calls. So,

open up.

She raised an eyebrow over the other and shook her head.

“Wait, what?” she wondered as she looked at her phone.

I’m right outside your door.

She tossed her phone on the bed and walked to her front door.

“So, you are stalking me right now?” she asked when she opened
the door where Noah was standing holding a black

duffel bag.

“No, not really…I just asked for your address from Moira,” he said as
he looked at her.

“Moira, seriously?” Allison asked running her fingers through her

hair. “What did you tell her you needed my address

for anyway?”
“That is need to know and by the way, I didn’t even know you two
were all in buddy-mode like that. When did that

happen?” he asked and she rolled her eyes.

“That is also need to know and you do not need to know, Noah,”
Allison said crossing her arms over her chest. “You

need to leave.”

“Why do you keep on doing that, huh?” he asked and she shrugged.

“What do you mean? Do what?” she asked. He slipped an arm

around her waist and pulled her close to kiss her softly.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“You keep on acting like you don’t want me around but you never
stop me when I reach for you,” he said as he began

pushing her into the apartment. “You want me as much as I want

you and you know it.”

“Please…Noah,” she closed her eyes.

He kicked the door shut with the heel of his shoe and led her to the
living room where he dropped his duffel bag.

“What are you doing now?” she asked in a soft voice.

“I want you to talk to me. Like really, really talk to me,” he said.
“Because I have been nothing but honest with you but

you seem hell bent on pushing me away.”

“Oh please,” Allison said pushing him away. “Honest? When did that
happen because all I know about you is that you
are into some light BDSM shit…”

“Light BDSM shit?” he asked as he looked at her and she nodded.

“Well, all you did was spank me and control when I had my orgasm,”
she said matter-of-factly.

“That is because I don’t want to just plunge you into the deep end. I
am not that insensitive,” he said.

“So, let me get this straight,” she started as she held her hair up and
began rolling it in a bun. “You see a plus size

woman on your tour jet and you assume that you can just do
whatever the hell you want because she will take it, right?”

He waited for her to turn around before he finally spoke.

“You cannot talk to me like that,” he said in a soft, controlled voice

that surprised even him.

“And why the hell not? You followed me to my apartment, Noah. I

can say whatever the hell I want,” she said putting on

a brave face even though she could not really understand how the
words just seemed to fly out of her mouth.

He got up and took a long deep breath before he suddenly backed

her up against the wall making her gasp. He slipped a

hand underneath her t-shirt and brought it up to cup a feel of her

left breast.

“You can’t talk to me like that, Allison,” he said in a soft voice.

“Because you are mine. Understand that?”

Allison wanted to snap back at him but the way he was gently
kneading her breast made her realize that she just couldn’t
say whatever the hell she wanted. She nodded and he kneaded her
breast again.

“Right now, I am not Noah Zimmerman, your lead singer friend.” His
hand was already undoing the buckle of her pants.

“I am your master and I order you to talk to me about what you

think is the big deal here. Why don’t you want me?” he asked

and she exhaled loudly.

“I do want you,” she said as a tear rolled down her cheek. “At least I
think I do.”

He pulled his hand away from her breast and took her hand in his
before he led her to the couch. He sat down and she sat

next to him, gently wiping the tears off her cheeks.

“What is it? What’s the big deal here?” he asked and she shrugged.

“Really? Rock star Noah Zimmerman is asking me what the big deal
is?” she asked.

“Yes, and right now I am just Noah. I mean, you don’t hear me
addressing you as journalist Allison Burgess, do you?” he

said as he looked at her. “Why don’t you just talk to me? Tell me
what the elephant in the room is because I clearly can’t see

it.”

“That’s the deal, Noah. I am the elephant in the room. Just open
your eyes and you will see it,” she said.

“What do you mean open my eyes?” he asked and another tear

rolled down her cheek.
“Look at me, Noah,” she said as she stood up.

“I am looking at you,” he said.

“No, no, no.” She buried her face in her hands and shook her head.
“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what? Damn it, Allison!” Noah stood up and walked to where
she was. “What is it that I don’t get?” He held her

plump face in his hands and looked right into her eyes. “Just tell me.
Talk to me…like I was a two year old kid. Explain

yourself.”

“Like a two year old kid,” she echoed and he nodded.

“I think that’s the only way I will understand what the fuck you are
on about,” he said as she carefully put her hands on

his waist. She slowly lifted his shirt up and he raised his hands over
his head allowing him to pull the shirt off. She then undid

his personalized belt buckle and then pulled down his pants. “I do
not understand what is happening, here. Not that I’m

complaining,” he said in a soft voice as he stepped out of his pants,

taking off his shoes in the process.

“Just…just work with me here,” she said in a soft voice. She walked
him up to the full length mirror that was next to the

door.

“What are we doing?” he asked as he looked at her reflection.

“Tell me what you see,” she said and she shrugged.

“I see me in my underwear, feeling very weird by the way,” he said
and she rubbed the side of her temple. She took off

her t-shirt and pants and stood next to him. “What are you doing?”
he asked and she shrugged.

“Now tell me what you see.”

“Same. Me, in my underwear. And you in yours…though I think it

would be more fun if we were both naked right now.”

“So you don’t see it?” she asked again and he shook his head.

“See what? I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about,” he
said and she sighed.

“Noah, I am the literal elephant in the room especially now standing

next to that tight, perfectly muscled body and…” he

turned around and kissed her softly, swallowing the rest of her
words. She gasped into his mouth when she felt the clasp at her

back suddenly get loose before her bra fell to the ground.

“What you do to me…” he held her even closer and lowered a hand
to just above her waist. “What you make me want to

do to you….”

He was now gently caressing the side of her face.

“Just to me or to every woman who comes your way?” she asked.

“I have never shown another woman this side of me, Allison.” He

pushed her panties off and looked at her. “You inspire

me to be true to myself.”
“And what is your true self?” she asked and a smile played on his
lips before he walked to the door. She watched him as

he secured the lock before walking to the living room. He picked up

the black duffel bag and began walking to where she was.

“I want to show you, right now,” he said in a whisper before he

kissed her gently. “Your bedroom, now.”

She nodded reluctantly before she led him down the hall to her
bedroom. He took her phone and placed it on the

nightstand before he turned to look at her.

“Are you going to have some kind of weird name for me, like slut or
bitch?” she asked in a low voice as he placed the

bag on the bed. He shook his head and looked up at her.

“The name Allison is just fine,” he said as his eyes ran down her
body. “I need you to come here,” he said as he held his

hand out to her. She put her small cold hand in his and he suddenly
pulled her to himself. “I am going to restrain you like I did

in Nashville, but this time I have my toys with me.” She nodded.
“Good girl,” he said as she presented her wrists to him so he

could cuff her. She then got on the bed and laid on her back giving
him a chance to secure the cuffs to the bed. He got a small

riding crop from his bag and placed it on her shoulder, slowly
running it down her body making her sigh silently. He then

secured her ankles and he smiled as he looked at her lying spread

eagled on the bed.
“Now that’s just how I want you,” he said as he pressed the crop to
her clit and she groaned. “Someone got wet, really

fast.”

Allison was moaning softly as she felt him rubbing her clit using the
crop. She was not sure what turned her on more.

The fact that he was using the riding crop to get her off or that at
any moment, the pleasure she was feeling would turn to pain.

She shuddered when she felt a warm surge of energy inside her that
presided her pre-orgasm. As if he knew what was about to

happen, he pulled the crop away and gently ran it up the side of her
body before he pushed his underwear off making her gasp

at the size of his girth. He got on the bed and knelt on either side of
her before he used the crop on the tops of her breasts. She

shuddered again when he used the crop on her hip. And then her
other hip.

“Just remember I can stop when you tell me to,” he said as he

looked at her. She was breathing hard and heavy as he

used the crop on the tops of her breast again. She did not even
understand why her nipples were hard yet he was inflicting pain

on her. She must have hard this side of her buried somewhere deep
inside her because somehow, she loved everything he was

doing to her. He suddenly moved back and got off her and before
she had any time to protest, he had reached into his bag again

to pull out the largest vibrator she had ever seen.

“Now remember, don’t cum,” he commanded as he held the vibrating
toy against her already distended clit. Following

his order was almost too hard. Considering he had literally rubbed
her into a tizzy just minutes before, she was sure that the

vibrating toy was going to make her explode at any minute. She was
moaning loudly and trying to writhe on the bed but the

restraints were too tight to allow her do anything. He quickly got on

the bed and shoved his cock into her mouth making her gag

as she struggled to accommodate his length. Suddenly, shoving

himself down her throat was not enough for him. He had her

right nipple in between his thumb and index finger and he was
squeezing, gently but still enough to cause her some discomfort.

Somehow, she had managed to get his entire length inside her
mouth.

“Fuck, Allison,” he moaned. “You keep on going like this and I swear
there will be nothing left for you.” She began

rolling her tongue on the head of his cock and he pulled himself out
of her mouth. He settled in between her legs and she

suddenly tensed up.

“It’s been a while…for me,” Allison whispered. “It’s been a really long
while and you are so…” she exhaled as a

single tear tolled down her cheek.

“I would never dream of hurting you like that,” he said as he

reached down to feel her warm, wet pussy making her
whimper silently. He reached for a condom from his bag and bit off
the covering before he got the latex out and quickly rolled

it onto his manhood. He went ahead to free her ankles so that she
could spread herself wider for him before he began working

his cock into her gently. He loved how tight she felt around his cock.
It was like she was literally embracing him from inside.

“Oh…okay,” she moaned as he pushed in further inside her. She

could feel him ripping through every tight muscle as he

stretched her pussy out. She moaned as he kissed her neck and
fondled her breasts, it was like he couldn’t get enough of her in

that one sitting. He was ravaging her with everything he had: his
cock, his mouth, his hands and without even knowing it, she

was taking every inch of his twelve-inch girth.

“Oh fuck…slow down…please…” she begged as he moved in and out

of her hard and fast. “I’m going to cum!” she

cried out but he was not slowing down. If anything, her pleas only
made him go faster and her walls gave way making her get

the wildest orgasm she had ever had. The wild pressure inside her
forced his cock out of her as she squirted her cum all over

his thigh and the bedding. He quickly undid her cuffs and took her
hands in his before pulling her up to a sitting position.

“Turn around. Get on all fours,” he commanded and she did as he

asked as he got behind her. She held on to the

headboard as he entered her from behind. A loud moan escaped her

lips as she felt him get deeper than ever. He slammed into
her over and over as he spanked her ass hard. Even though she was
trying to keep her moans low, the way he was moving made

it almost impossible for her to keep herself in check. Soon, the only
sounds in the room were of his pelvis slamming against her

ass and every so often his hand coming down on her ass cheek,
hard. She suddenly felt him reaching for one of her breasts

roughly as he exploded in her. Her moans had now turned into

screams as he fucked her through his wild climax. She collapsed

on the bed when his cock slipped out of her still wet pussy.

“That was…” she started as she panted for breath. “Amazing.”

“Yes, what you do to me is…indescribable,” he whispered as he

gently laid next to her cradling her in his arms. “I don’t

ever want to lose you.”

“There is no reason you would have to lose me,” she said, shivering
in his arms.

“So, I can assume that it is safe to introduce you to the rest of my

toys?” he asked and she shrugged.

“There are more?” she asked in a surprised tone and he smiled.

“I did bring my bag,” he said and she turned to look at him.

“Let’s just go slow with all this. Baby steps,” she said and he kissed
her softly.

“Baby steps,” he said when he pulled away.

THE END
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Book 1:

Knocked Up by the Doctor

Knocked Up by the Doctor

Dr. Glen Marrone stood and stared at the destruction he’d wrought.
He’d sped toward the front doors at the screech of

brakes, just like any other doctor would have. A fender bender,
nobody was hurt, but he’d had to check. Melissa had gone

outside with her phone, ready to call 911. He’d heard something
falling from the front desk, but he hadn’t had the time to see

what he’d done.

“Shit!” Melissa’s purse had fallen open, discharging all its contents.
Pens, her wallet and...what was this?

He picked up a book, staring at the cover. A woman in chains, a lurid

title. “Bound for Pleasure.” Interesting! He had no
idea she was into this.

Glenn stroked the cover the book, wondering what he should do

about this new development. He had no idea Melissa

was so interested in this sort of thing, or what kind of interest it was.

Was it mere curiosity over the new and trendy thing in

literature, movies, and, in some cases, real life?

She could join the club then. BDSM. Melissa, his mild-mannered
nurse, had seemed rather virginal. He wouldn’t have

expected her like these books, even if they were all the rage these
days. Not that many people understood BDSM, real lifestyle

or scene BDSM rather than what some authors wrote. It was

something that Glenn and his friends the club laughed about

sometimes. When they weren’t cringing about that stupid movie or

worrying that innocent people might get caught in situations

they had no knowledge to overcome.

Above and beyond all that, he needed to think about what to do

about this. Glenn found Melissa very attractive, but he

didn’t think they had much in common outside the office. She was
younger than him, by about 10 years, and while she got along

with everybody in the office, there was a certain quietness, and a

certain distance between them that seemed to go beyond

professional courtesy.

She was also a girl with curves to spare. It's not that he didn’t like
curvy girls, but he’d never actually been with one.
Outside of doing scenes at the club with one of the curvier regulars,
and while those had been good, he had never wanted to

date anybody he done a scene with. This might just change, with
Melissa in the picture. Provided of course, that this wasn’t just

a passing fancy on her part.

He watched Melissa come back in, gave her a little nod and a smile.
“You did well out there,” he told her. She’d rushed

out seconds after the screech of tires, phone in hand, and he’d
joined her a minute later. If there had been any actual injuries,

her speed might have helped to save the day. As it was, her
consoling manner had set the nervous people to calmer.

Melissa looked from him to the spilled purse, and her face reddened,
first getting a little bright around the ears and then

going right down to her cheeks in a natural blush that no makeup

could possibly compare to.

“How do things look out there,” he asked trying to distract her. “Are
they calm and settled? Any idea why they hit the

pole?”

“I think that everybody’s going to be okay,” she said trying to gather

up all her things.

He gave her a little smile as he realized she’d picked up a personal

hygiene container, he hadn’t seen one of those for a

while. Sure, he knew that women carried them in purses but hadn’t
expected to see one at work. And that wasn’t even likely to

be the thing that caused her the most embarrassment.

Melissa’s her eyes tracked to the book, the very same book he held
in his hands. She made a grab for but he pulled away

shaking his head with little smile.

“That’s mine,” she exclaimed and he could tell that she was both
nervous and embarrassed.

“Yeah, I know. But I was very curious about it. I thought you would
read one of the Shades books.” Glenn arched a

brow, giving her a little wink. “You realize that those books have no
basis in reality. ” He wasn’t commenting on the one he

held; he had no basis to compare that one yet.

“I really have no idea,” Melissa said. Her face was bright red. He’d
never seen her so uncomfortable before, though it

was a cute human moment for his very quiet nurse. Glenn wanted to
relax her, to put her at ease.

“Melissa, it’s okay. There are many people into this lifestyle, and if
you’re one of them, I’m never gonna judge you.” She

arched a brow at that, and it was clear that she didn’t quite know
where to go with what he was saying to her. He handed her

the book, resting a hand on her shoulder before he pulled away.

“Melissa, if you really want to learn about that lifestyle, we’ll talk.”

Her eyes widened and she looked at him, assessing him. “Exactly
what you mean?” she asked. “Are you coming on to

me, Doctor?” Her eyes flashed fire for a moment, he saw the spunk
inside her. Oh, this was good. This was very, very good.
“No, Melissa,” he said softly, causing her to lean in. “I’m not coming
on to you. This is not a sexual harassment issue.”

He regarded her steadily for a few minutes, waiting for her to speak.
When she didn’t, he found that he was very impressed

with how much composure she had in this situation.

“Melissa, it may come as a surprise to you, but this is my lifestyle. I

don’t like the popularity that that book is brought to

my life, and to my friends. There are things that are very, very
wrong about it, and people are getting hurt. At first it seemed as

if it was a bit of a passing fancy, something for people to dip their

feet into before going elsewhere. But now, now there are

innocent people doing things that they have no business doing and
getting hurt in the process.”

Melissa watched him, her expression was inscrutable. Finally, she

spoke, “I just read the books, Doctor,” she said

meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment, before looking down. “This
isn’t my lifestyle. This isn’t my life.” She emphasized the

“my” and he gave her a little smile. She had no idea that she was
broadcasting her interest, regardless of what she said.

“Melissa, I’m a student body language. Whatever you say, your

actions are speaking louder than words. If, and I repeat

if, you’re interested in exploring this, together or alone, I can help

you get through it.” He leaned in, brushing her hair off her

shoulder and gave a little smile. “I’ve been there before, Melissa,” he
whispered. “I know what it is like to train somebody. If
you want to be trained, or if you just want to explore the lifestyle,
I’m your man. It will never interfere with our working life.

You think about it, and you tell me if you’re interested. If not, I
won’t say another word to you.”

Melissa couldn’t quite believe what was happening. First, there was
the car accident, thankfully only a fender bender.

The people inside, an elderly couple, had been a little shaken up, but
they had not wanted her to call EMS. Then, she’d

returned to the office to find her purse was open, disengaging all of
her personal items onto the floor. It hadn’t been bad enough

that her feminine products had been lying out there for anyone to
say, but that book, her current favorite book, had fallen out,

too. Dr. Glenn had held it in his hands stroking the cover, an
unconscious gesture. She had a feeling that he had no idea he was

broadcasting his own body language cues, and expressing his

interest to her, whether he intended to or not. Not that she had

ever considered that he was a student of BDSM. But now that she
knew, she was driven crazy with thoughts of him wielding a

whip, handcuffing some beautiful young woman, exerting his will

over strangers. Dammit, she wanted that to be her.

Melissa stuffed her book, and her other things, back into her purse
trying not to blush, resisting the urge to fan herself, but

only barely. She’d work for Dr. Glenn for a long time now, six years,
and change. In that time, the entire office staff and turned

over several times. They were the only two who had stayed. And
they formed an interesting bond, not quite friendship. Not
quite boss and employee. It was somewhere in between, a gray area
of professional respect and personal lines drawn for the

betterment of their working bond.

And as such, she was never quite sure how to approach the doctor.
Sometimes they were friends, and he would dispense

advice about boys, men really, and other times there was a distance
between them. Like when Rose, his former girlfriend, had

left the country. Dr. Glenn had been very quiet that, and Melissa had
known how to get him out of his shell. Since they were the

only consistent employees in the office, she felt a responsibility to

keep the office running smoothly, even though that wasn’t

her job. They had a very capable office manager, who was at lunch
right now, thank God. Cathy would have been all over this

if she’d seen what was happening. Heck, she probably would have
live blogged it to her friends.

The office was rounded out by a very part time receptionist and a
medical biller, both young and just out of college.

They wouldn’t stay, Melissa knew that.

Most of their employees were here for a short time, either starting
anew after divorce, or a change in life, or they were

college kids, looking for something bigger and better than $15 an
hour. It was a darn shame. Dr. Glenn was both generous, and

compassionate. He wasn’t only known for his bedside manner, but

he was known for being a generous individual in their city.
Every charity event opportunity that came past their doors, every
invitation, he did something, no matter how small. She could

respect that he seemed plugged in and invested in their community.

So many others wrote checks and were done with it, but

Doctor Glenn actually went out and physically assisted the charities.

“Melissa, are you okay? Are you thinking about what I had to say?”
Dr. Glenn looked at the doors. Melissa realized that

Cathy would be back soon.

Melissa looked up at Doctor Glenn. How could she possibly answer

his question? “Oh yes, I’m thinking about it. I’m

thinking about all the ways it would be a bad idea.” She clapped a
hand over her mouth, wishing she could pull her snarky

response right back in, but it was too late.

“But you’re thinking about it aren’t you,” Glenn said with a little
smile. She couldn’t think of him as Doctor Glenn right

now; that would be too confusing, and yes, way too arousing.

“So now that I know your secret, Melissa, what are we gonna do
about it?” H had a little smirk on his face. A part of her

wanted to wipe that self-confidence right off his face, and the other
part of her liked the sight of it, his arrogance, and his surety

that things would work out for him in the end. It was as if they had
a little secret against the world.

Melissa cocked a hip and gave him a little wink, pulling forth all the
sex goddess that she had buried deep inside her.
Deep, deep inside her, maybe like 40 pounds ago. “So, Doc, are you
really serious about this? Is it going to impact my job

security?” She asked him.

“Whatever we do outside this office, will never come into this office,”
Glenn said intensely, his eyes flashing. “Your

job will never be at issue, Melissa. I promise you that. I vow that.”
His intensity was getting to her, turning her on in a way that

she could not have imagined before today.

He was the good-looking older brother type, not the sort of guy that
she could ever attain with her average looks and

extra pounds. Or even hope to have, so she had chosen not to be

attracted, too. And that denial, that self-delusion, was rearing

up and biting her on the ass.

“What do you have in mind?” She gave him a deep, penetrating

look. She couldn’t do intensity like he could, but she

could give back a little bit.

“Well, I have just the idea, I…”

Melissa turned, looking at the door, knowing that they were about to
get invaded. And wasn’t that horrible term,

invaded. It was just their office manager, who was doing both her
own duties and that of their receptionist today.

“Cathy!” Doctor Glenn said, falsely enthusiastic. “How was lunch?”

“Just...fine?” Cathy’s voice lifted, as if in a question. While Glenn was

friendly to the staff, this level of enthusiasm
seemed as false as it was.

“Good. Good. We had some excitement here.”

While he filled Cathy in on the fender bender and the frantic older
couple, Melissa finished scooping up a few of her

wayward belongings. Dropping to a crouch took her much lower

than Glenn’s penetrating gaze, and gave her a little breathing

room. Standing eye to eye, or eye to collarbone, with him had been
a little too intense.

“Wait, what happened?” Cathy asked, and Melissa experienced a

moment of sheer terror, thinking he might tell Cathy

about what had just transpired between them. Her rational mind
knew that he never would, but there was a part of her very

nervously anticipating something. It was in the air, that feeling

before a bad storm. Named Glenn, apparently.

“You heard me, fender bender, older couple. They were a bit shaken
up but didn’t want any medical assistance. I offered

to call 911.”

“Doctor Glenn offered to check them out, but they were having none
of it,” Melissa added, standing up, her purse

clutched in her arms.

“Hrm,” Cathy said, and ended that in a small smile. “Maybe they
have something to hide, like grandma and grandpa are

jewel thieves or something like that. You never know what secrets
someone else may be keeping. You know my neighbor down
the block, George? Muscle bound? Yeah?” She gestured to Melissa,
who nodded.

“Well, he’s on steroids. That’s how he gets those muscles. Can you
believe it? I can’t. I’m totally shocked.”

“Me too,” Glenn quipped. “Let me get back to my paperwork, ladies.

Melissa, about what we talked about...give it some

thought.”

“I will.”

Melissa wasn’t quite sure why she said yes, but she had. And Dr.
Glenn had taken the fact that she’d had her book and

run with it. He seemed curious to know if her interest was just an
exploration, a discussion of what might be titillating to read,

rather than an opening into the life. Melissa still wasn’t quite sure
why she said yes. Maybe it was Glenn, or maybe it was just

her own interest in finding out where the books got it right and
where they got it wrong.

Melissa had spent all day, all her one free Saturday month, trying to
figure out what to wear. What was BDSM club

chic? Should she go with a costume of some kind? Should she go

with something that looked absolutely normal, and figure she

might be out of place. She dithered about it all day, it wasn’t as if

she could ask her friends none of her friends would’ve

understood this, she tried to broach the subject with them before.
None of them seemed interested in the lifestyle, none of them
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Babrahams of the world, who were simply rolling in money, thought
twice about giving fortunes away. What did he suppose was going to
become of his career as an artist if he stripped himself of the means
of pursuing it?
That, of course, was where she had him. And as they sat side by
side on this golden journey to East Anglia, they divided the forenoon
between admiring the scenery and discussing the problem in all its
aspects.
“You talk of France and Spain and Italy.” The note of scorn was
mellowed considerably by the romance of the occasion. “You talk of
studying the pictures in the Louvre and the Prado and the Uffizi
Gallery.” She had really got to grips with Culture now. With an
indomitable will, an inflexible ambition and a brand new course of
memory training to help her; she was not only learning to remember
outlandish words, but how and when and in what order to use them.
“You talk of Rembrandt and Titian and Velasky, but I’m thinking those
foreign landladies’ll get your size before you can say Knife. My
opinion is you’ll need somebody always with you to see that they
don’t take it off you.”
“Take what off me, Miss June?” inquired His Innocence.
There was a question!
“Your pram, of course, your teddy bear, and your feeding bottle.”
She added the opprobrious term “You Gaby!” not however for the ear
of this Dreamer, but for the benefit of the pleasant town of Malden,
on whose outskirts they were already.
“When you get to Paris and find yourself in the Prado studying
Paul Very-uneasy, you’ll be lucky if you get away with as much as a
bootlace. Mr. Boultby used to say French landladies were awful.”
“Did he,” said the Dreamer; and then with a sudden animation:
“Do you see that water wagtail on the lip of that pool?”
June pointedly ignored the water wagtail.
“You ought to have somebody to look after you when you go to
Paris—somebody who understands the value of money.”
 “The less value money has for an artist the better,” said William
the sententious.
“Mr. Boultby would call that poppycock,” said June, equally
sententious.
What William really meant to say was that the less an artist
thought about money the better for his art, that an artist painted
better for love than for filthy lucre and so on, that the great masters
were born poor as a rule and often died poor and that nothing was
so likely as money to distract the mind from the quest of beauty.
These, to be sure, were not his exact words. His thoughts were
clothed more neatly in the William way. But such was the sum and
substance of what they came down to, and June was so pained by
his line of argument that the contents of the luncheon basket on the
opposite seat were needed to sustain her.
After patiently reasoning with such wrong-headedness, she
looked at her watch and found it was one o’clock. As there was
never a sign at present of Crowdham Market, they decided to begin
on what the gods had provided. Egg and tomato sandwiches were at
the top of the basket with a layer of ham underneath, and below that
a most authentic cake with almonds in it; all of which were delicious.
The meal, if anything, was even better than the conversation,
though that also was on an extremely high level. They were very
honourable in their dealings with the luncheon basket. Share and
share alike was the order of the day, with a third share of everything
religiously laid by for Mr. Mitchell whenever he might feel justified in
slowing up to eat it. Even a full third of the basket’s crowning glory
was laid by for Mr. Mitchell—to wit, a large vacuum flask of coffee,
piping hot.
It was a few minutes after two when they reached Crowdham
Market and drew up at the Unicorn Inn. Here, six months ago,
William had discussed the great drought with Miss Ferris, the
landlady’s daughter, one of those high-coloured girls who June could
see at a glance was a minx.
 Promising to be back in an hour, which was all that Mr. Mitchell
could allow if they were to be home before the rising of the moon,
June and William, feeling more romantic than ever before in their
lives, set out on a pilgrimage up the High Street. It was the only
street in the town which aspired to a sense of importance; the point
in fact towards which all meaner streets converged. One of these it
was they had now to find.
Alas, from the outset there was a grave doubt in the mind of
William in the matter of his bearings. To the best of his recollection
the old woman’s shop was either the second or third turning up, then
to the left, then across, and then to the left again into an obscure
alley of which he had forgotten the name. That was like him. In
June’s private opinion, it was also like him, although lèse-majesté of
course, to let him know it, to take her to look for a serendipity shop in
a bottle of hay.
William knew neither the name of the old woman, nor the byway
that had contained her, and in the course of half an hour’s
meandering it grew clear to the practical mind of June that she was
in serious danger of having to go without her annuity. Having come
so far it would be humiliating to return with a tale of total defeat; yet
up till now these emotions had been held in check by the romance of
the case.
Mr. Mitchell’s hour was all but sped, when William stopped
abruptly. Light had come. He had hit the trail.
At the corner of the lane into which for the third time they had
penetrated, was an enticing little shop called Middleton’s Dairy. The
sight of it brought back to William’s mind a recollection. Immediately
the picture had been acquired, he went into that shop to get a bun
and a glass of milk. Pausing a moment to wrestle with his sense of
locality, he gazed down the street. The old woman’s store would be
just opposite.
Only a glance was needed to show that the old woman’s store
was not just opposite. The housebreakers had been recently at work
and the decrepit block of which her premises formed a part was
razed to the ground.
 Faced by the problem of what had happened to the old woman
the only thing now was to enter Middleton’s Dairy and enquire. They
were cordially received by a girl who in June’s opinion showed too
many teeth when she smiled to be really good looking; who, also, in
June’s opinion, wore corsets that didn’t suit her figure, and whose
hair would have looked better had it been bobbed.
Like Miss Ferris, the landlady’s daughter, this girl seemed to
remember William quite well, which was rather odd June felt, since
he had only been once in the town previously and then for but a few
hours. The inference to be drawn from the fact was that William was
William, and that in an outlandish one-horse place like Crowdham
Market, young men of his quality were necessarily at a premium.
But at the moment that was neither here nor there. And with
equal truth the formula applied to the old woman. However, in regard
to her it seemed, they were now in the way of getting information.
After William, with a certain particularity had described the old
creature and her shop to the girl who kept on showing her teeth
while he did so, he was informed that she was known among the
neighbours as Mother Stark. And the poor old thing, the girl
understood, had been turned out of house and home because she
could no longer pay her rates and taxes.
“Half her side of the Lane’s pulled down,” said June, who now
came into the conversation on a note of slight asperity.
“Oh, yes,” said Miss Smiler, to William rather than to June, “the
site has been bought by a company.”
“Putting a museum on it I suppose,” said June.
“No, not a museum,” said Miss Smiler in a level voice ignoring
June’s irony either because she did not see it, or because she did,
which in any case perhaps was just as well for her.
“A chicken run?” June surmised with a disdainful eye upon a nice
basket of new laid eggs, five for a shilling.
No, the site had not been acquired for a chicken run. Miss Smiler
understood they were going to build a picture house.
 June gazed solemnly at William. And her gaze was frankly and
faithfully returned. A picture house on the spot where a Van Roon
had lain hidden and unknown for who knew how many years!
What a world it was! Could Mother Stark but have guessed she
would not have needed a Company to take over her premises.
“What’s become of her? Can you tell us?” said June.
“Had to go to the Workhouse, I believe, poor soul,” said the girl,
who had a good heart.
June looked at William. William looked at June.
“Is the Workhouse far from here—please can you tell us?” It was
William who asked the question.
The Workhouse, it seemed, was not far. In fact it was quite near.
To get there you had only to go to the end of the lane, turn to the left,
cross the recreation ground and the footbridge over the canal, and
keep on bearing to the left and you couldn’t miss it.
“Will it take long?” The question was June’s. And a glance at her
wrist accompanied it.
“Not more than five minutes.”
“Thank you very much indeed. We are greatly obliged to you.”
William it was who brought the conversation to a climax with a lift of
the hat.
 LXV
There was only one thing to be done now. Mr. Mitchell’s hour was
up, but there was no help for it. The Workhouse, as the girl had
said—she might, in June’s opinion have had a claim to good looks if
she had not suffered from “a rush of teeth to the head”—was not
more than five minutes away if you followed her instructions.
As June had the matter in hand, the instructions were followed to
the letter and they arrived at the Workhouse without delay. But as
the pile, dark and grim, came into view at the far side of the canal, an
odd emotion suddenly brought them up with a round turn.
A long moment they gazed at the bleak and frowning thing before
their eyes. And then June said with a laugh, “I’m thinking that’s
where you’ll be one day, if you don’t find someone who isn’t a genius
to look after you.”
The words came from the heart, yet William did not appear to
hear them. “Reminds one,” he murmured half to himself, “of that little
thing of Duclaux’s called The Poor House.”
June’s puzzlement was revealed by a frown.
“There’s an exhibition of his pictures just now at the Bond Street
Gallery. Wonderful line. A great sense of mass effect.”
“You can’t tell me,” said June, “there’s beauty in a thing like that—
in that old Workhouse?”
“Duclaux would say so, with that dark cloud cutting across the
gable. And that bend of the Canal in the foreground is not without
value.” He smiled his rare smile which never had looked so divine.
But June was a little afraid of it now. She kept her eyes the other
way.
“Canal,” she said with brevity. “Not without value. I should say so.
As we say at Blackhampton, ‘where there’s muck there’s money.’”
 She glanced at her wrist again. Another ten minutes credited now
to Mr. Mitchell’s account.
“Duclaux, I suppose, would see it this way.” The queer fellow
stepped back two paces, put up his hand to shade his eyes and
adjust his vision to look at the Workhouse.
This was Pure Pottiness, the concentrated essence in tabloid
form. However, Miss Babraham had already impressed upon June
the deep truth that genius must be allowed a margin.
A little faint of heart she rang the bell of the gloomy and
forbidding door. The summons was heeded, tardily and with
reluctance, by its janitor, a surly male.
“Can we see Mrs. Stark?” asked June.
“Eh?” said the janitor. He must have been deaf indeed not to
have heard the question in its cool clarity. June repeated it; whereon
the keeper of the door looked her slowly up and down, turning over
the name in his mind as he did so.
“Mother Stark she was called,” said June, for his further
enlightenment. “She sold all kinds of old rubbish at a shop that used
to be opposite Middleton’s Dairy at the top of Love Lane.”
“Mother Stark you say!” Light was coming to the janitor. “No, you
can’t see her.”
“Why not? The matter’s important.”
“She’s been in her grave this two month—that’s why not,” said
the janitor.
“Oh,” said June; and then after brief commerce with the eye of
William: “Has she any relations or friends?”
The answer was no. Mother Stark had had a parish burial.
William thanked Diogenes with that courtesy which was never-
failing and inimitable; and then after one more swift glance at each
other, they turned away, feeling somehow, a little overcome, yet
upheld by the knowledge of being through at last with the matter of
the poor old thing’s annuity.
 Returning in their tracks across the canal footbridge, across the
recreation ground, up the lane, past the site of the new picture
house, past Middleton’s Dairy, they entered the High Street, without
haste, in spite of Mr. Mitchell, and with a gravity new and strange, as
if they both felt now the hand of destiny upon them.
Heedless of all the Mr. Mitchells in the universe, they walked very
slowly to draw out the last exquisite drop of a moment of bliss that,
no matter what life had in store, they could never forget. And then for
some mystic reason, June’s brain grew incandescent. It became a
thing of dew and fire. Ideas formed within it, broke from it, took
shape in the ambient air. She might have been treading the upper
spaces of Elysium, except that no girl’s feet were ever planted more
firmly or more shrewdly upon the pavement of High Street,
Crowdham Market.
Four doors from the Unicorn Inn was the most fashionable
jeweller’s shop in the town, perhaps for the reason that there was no
other; and as they came level with the window a spark flashed from
its depths and met an instant answer in the eye of June. Nearly an
hour behind the schedule they were now, yet they lingered one
moment more, while June drew William’s attention to a coincidence.
The vital spark it seemed, owed its being to a gem set in a ring which
was almost a replica of the one worn by Miss Babraham in honor of
its giver, who of course was a gentleman in the Blues.
“It’s as like Miss Babraham’s engagement ring as one pea is like
another pea,” said June in a soft voice.
In the course of their friendship, William had been guilty of many
silences of a disgraceful impersonality; and he was now guilty of one
more. He glanced at the ring with a wistful eye, sighed a little, and
then with slow reluctance moved on. June accompanied him to the
very threshold of the Unicorn Inn. And upon its doorstep of all
places, within hearing of the Office, wherein lurked Miss Ferris, the
landlady’s daughter, he faced about, and then by way of an after-
thought, his head apparently still full of Duclaux, began to stammer.
“Miss June if I go back and get that ring will you—will you
promise—to—to——?”
 Miss Ferris was in the Office; the top of her coiffure was to be
seen above the frosted glass. And the Office door was wide open;
June, therefore, gave her answer in a very low and gentle voice.
Her answer, for all that, did not lack pith. “If only you’ll cut out the
Miss, I’ll wear it like Miss Babraham—on my heart finger.”
 LXVI
Back they went to the jeweller’s four doors up. To the expert eye of
William, the ring on inspection was so little like Miss Babraham’s
that he seemed to have a qualm about buying it. He had a fancy for
moonstones and diamonds, but Crowdham Market’s only jeweller did
not run to these. June was firm, besides, that the ring in her hand
was cheap at nine guineas, and as no one could call it vulgar, it was
quite good enough.
William was sure it was nothing like good enough. “But when we
get to London, you shall have moonstones and diamonds.”
“That’ll be lovely,” said June; and a deep thrill ran in her heart as
she realized that her dreams were coming true.
William took a wad of Bradburys from his breast pocket. He was
now a man of property, with a rent roll of twelve hundred a year, but
even a most careful counting would not let them muster more than
seven. June, however, as became the lawful owner of an Old Master,
whom to acquire for the nation a committee had been lately formed,
was equal to the occasion. For she promptly took a wad from the
vanity bag which now graced her travels instead of her mother’s old
purse, and made up the sum.
In the meantime, the jeweller, a man of ripe experience, had put
two and two together.
“Will you wear it, madam, or will you have it packed in the box?”
An unconventional question, no doubt, but places like Crowdham
Market are close to nature and get down to bedrock by short cuts.
“I’ll wear it,” June answered. “And I’ll have the box as well. It’ll do
for my dressing table to keep pins in.”
The jeweller, one of the old school, bowed to June as he handed
her the box and also the change. And then, a jeweller with a fine
technique, he smiled at William in a Masonic manner and handed
him the ring.
June, as cool as if she was on parade, removed a white kid glove
from her left hand. “That’s the heart finger,” she said.
If she blushed a little, the jeweller was too busy writing out the
receipt at the other end of the shop to be aware of the fact.
 LXVII
They decided to ask Miss Ferris, the landlady’s daughter, for a cup
of tea, before they set out on the journey home. June felt she
could afford to take the risk, since by now the situation was well in
hand. Mr. Mitchell raised no objection. Himself an ampler man for a
noble lunch, he had been recounting tales of Araby and lands of fair
renown in the privacy of the Office. His suit of Robin Hood green and
a certain gallantry of bearing had made considerable impact in an
amazingly short time, not upon Miss Ferris merely, but upon her
widowed mother, the sole proprietress of the Unicorn Inn, who in the
words of the local manager of the East Anglia and Overtons Bank
“was the warmest woman in Crowdham Market.”
While Mr. Mitchell (Sergeant, R.E., D.C.M. with clasp), and the
widow were in the garden admiring the early pansies, June and
William sat down to tea in the coffee room. Even there the contiguity
of Miss Ferris had rather a tendency to cramp June’s style. High-
coloured girl, she was a little inclined to take liberties as she passed
around the table. And when June, in her sweetest and best Miss
Babraham manner, asked if they might have some crab apple jam,
she caught the glint of the ring on June’s heart finger in a way so
direct that she murmured something about having to look out for her
eyesight—or words equally ill-bred—and nearly dropped the tea pot.
By the time they got under way and the nose of the car was set
for the pleasant land of Surrey, a doubt infected the mind of Mr.
Mitchell as to whether they would make Homefield before midnight.
Neither June nor William seemed to care very much whether they
did or whether they didn’t. The car was most comfortable, the sense
of romance hot upon them still, the presence of each other vital and
delicious in their consciousness. Mile passed upon mile. The endless
spool of road continued to unwind itself, a little wind breathed gentle
nothings, Mr. Mitchell sat four-square in front, the birds still sang, but
the sun was going down.
 Saying very little, they lived never-to-be-forgotten hours. Now and
again William pointed to a bird or a tree, the fold of a hill, the form of
a cloud, the gleam of a distant water. Yet for the most part the
nearness of each other was all sufficing. June began to nestle
closer; the chill of night came on. Saying less than ever now,
moonstones and diamonds stole upon her thoughts. She was
haunted by a lovely fear that she could not live up to them. And then
softly and more soft, she began to breathe with a rhythmical rise and
fall, slowly deepening to a faint crescendo that blended with the
motions of the car.
East by west of nowhere came the high moment when the sun
was not, and the moon not yet. Somewhere over Surrey a star was
dancing. Very shyly and gently he ventured to give her a kiss. She
stirred ever so little. A bird spoke from a brake, a note clear and
wonderful, yet the month was young for the nightingale. But this was
Cloud Cuckoo Land, a divine country in which the nightingale may
be heard at odd seasons.
Psyche stirred again. With a reverence chaste and simple he
gave her a second kiss, deep and slow. The solemn sacrament was
fire to the soul of an artist. And then he gave a little gasp. The high
gods in his brain whispered that the moon was coming.
The moon was coming.
Yes, there she was, the sovereign lady! He sat very still, praying,
praying that he might surprise some holy secret, hidden even from
Duclaux.
She was very wonderful to-night. Her loveliness was more than
he could bear. There was a touch of intimacy in her magic; the
country over which she shone was elfland. He seemed to hear a
faint familiar sound of horns. Or it might have been the swift gliding
of the car.
In the quietness of the spirit’s ecstasy he could have wept.
Might it be given to Duclaux to see her, lovely lady, just as he
could see her now!
But he mustn’t dare to breathe or the vision would be forever lost.
THE END
 NOVELS BY J. C. SNAITH

THE VAN ROON

A remarkable novel, human to its very
core, which tells of how a painting by an old
master, newly discovered, became a cause of
love and hate among a curious and delightful
group of characters.
THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN
International mystery in which seven men
come to grips with a war-preaching
newspaper-syndicate. The hero, typical
Snaith character, fights boldly against
strangling intrigue.
THE UNDEFEATED
“It is distinctly a big novel—a book of
vision and of understanding, of truth and
beauty.”—New York Times.
“The simplest and straightest work
imaginable and mightily impressive.”—
Washington Star.
THE SAILOR
“It is a book that overwhelms the reader by
the poignant and magnificent message that it
carries. It is a book that is unforgettable.”—
Springfield Union.
“Interpretative, creative work of a very high
order.”—New York Times.
THE ADVENTUROUS LADY
A sparkling social comedy, top-full of
delightful situations and characters, seasoned
with incomparable humor and youthful
buoyancy.
THE TIME SPIRIT
“The verbal fencing, sparkling colloquy
and keen, swift repartee alone raise the story
far above the dead level of society fiction.”—
Philadelphia North American.
THE COMING
“Mr. Snaith handles his theme delicately,
poetically, with a fine and sensitive
reverence.”—Independent.
“It is a daring performance of impressive
and triumphant strength.”—New York Tribune.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

New York London
 A CHOICE SHELF OF NOVELS

ABBÉ PIERRE
By JAY WILLIAM HUDSON
This charming novel of life in quaint
Gascony is proving that a novel that is a work
of truest art can be a best seller of the widest
popularity.
WAY OF REVELATION
By WILFRID EWART
A realistic novel of the great war which
presents with startling truth and accuracy the
effect of the conflict upon a group of intensely
interesting characters.
THE MERCY OF ALLAH
By HILAIRE BELLOC, Author of “The Path to
Rome,” etc.
A brilliant and highly entertaining satire on
modern business, which tells of how
Mahmoud, by the Mercy of Allah and his own
keen wits, accumulated a vast fortune.
THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY
By ELEANOR GATES, Author of “The Poor
Little Rich Girl,” etc.
A whimsical, humorous fantasy of a poor
little boy’s search for happiness.
MOTHER
By MAXIM GORKY. Introduction by Charles
Edward Russell.
Wide interest is being displayed in Gorky’s
story of Russia before the Revolution.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

New York London
 AMONG THE NEWEST NOVELS

THE HOUSE OF MOHUN

By GEORGE GIBBS, Author of “Youth
Triumphant,” etc.
A distinguished novel depicting present
day society and its most striking feature, the
“flapper.” A story of splendid dramatic
qualities.
THE COVERED WAGON
By EMERSON HOUGH, Author of “The
Magnificent Adventure,” “The Story of the
Cowboy,” etc.
A novel of the first water, clear and clean,
is this thrilling story of the pioneers, the men
and women who laid the foundation of the
great west.
HOMESTEAD RANCH
By ELIZABETH G. YOUNG
The New York Times says that
“Homestead Ranch” is one of the season’s
“two best real wild and woolly western yarns.”
The Boston Herald says, “So delightful that
we recommend it as one of the best western
stories of the year.”
SACRIFICE
By STEPHEN FRENCH WHITMAN, Author of
“Predestined,” etc.
 How a woman, spoiled child of New York
society, faced the dangers of the African
jungle trail. “One feels ever the white heat of
emotional conflict.”—Philadelphia Public
Ledger.
DOUBLE-CROSSED
By W. DOUGLAS NEWTON, Author of “Low
Ceilings,” etc.
“An excellently written and handled tale of
adventure and thrills in the dark spruce
valleys of Canada.”—New York Times.
JANE JOURNEYS ON
By RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL, Author of
“Play the Game,” etc.
The cheerful story of a delightful heroine’s
adventures from Vermont to Mexico.

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