"WARNING: DARK THEMES, EXPLICIT CONTENT"
Published by http://ph.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/books
Mara Cantor’s life is boring and uncomplicated, and she likes it that way. She has her internship at the museum—a job she shares with her roommate, Davis—and while it is low-paying and occasionally mind-numbing, it gives her all the free time she needs to finish her thesis. And that is just fine.
But when Argent Leeds, the internationally famous playboy and raconteur, visits Mara’s museum, he brings with him the most exciting archeological discovery in decades: the Pazuzu gemstones. Long assumed to be nothing more than a myth by most scholars, the gemstones are rumored to possess mystical powers.
Between Argent, his gemstones, and Davis, Mara’s boring life has suddenly gotten very complicated. Now she is caught up in a sexual adventure that is either the most exciting time of her life . . . or the most terrifying.
About the Author:
Gene Doucette is an award-winning screenwriter, novelist, playwright, humorist, essayist, father, husband, cyclist, dog owner – and a few other things, too. He is, in other words, a writer. A graduate of Boston College, he lives in Cambridge, MA with his family.
Sapphire Blue is Doucette’s first foray into the erotica genre, and will be available for purchase in both paperback and e-book formats on February 27, 2014.
Connect with G. Doucette:
Other books by Gene Doucette
The mademoiselle—she did not appear to have a first name—was seemingly happier to meet Mara than anybody had ever been to meet her ever, and while Mara was pretty sure Alleman greeted everyone with the same extraordinary level of enthusiasm, it rang so true she was happy to imagine this woman had been waiting for Mara all her life—or if not her, then someone just like Mara—to come along and try on some of the clothing she had lying around that was all about exactly the right size.
They began simply enough, by making sure the criminally short black dress Argent had picked out for her was properly sized. Mara thought it was a perfect fit—better than any other outfit in her wardrobe already—but the mademoiselle disagreed and ended up taking in an eighth of an inch at the waist and lowering the hemline by a quarter of an inch.
“You will see, chéri,” she said. “It will look perfect.”
It looked pretty perfect already, Mara thought. But she wasn’t the expert in the room.
Underwear came next, and that was just sort of strange. Mara had never had a personal shopper for outerwear before, but she liked the idea of it immediately. But Mademoiselle Alleman, a woman old enough to be her grandmother, had opinions on what underwear Mara should be wearing with the dress, and nobody was pretending this was going to be anything other than fuck-me underwear.
“I think Monsieur Leeds, he will like these very much,” she said, holding up a thong that was essentially three strings and an eye-patch. In the mademoiselle’s French accent, the suggestion sound perfectly normal, which made Mara wonder if her accent was even real or if she just used it to make these moments slightly less weird.
“It’s not very much of anything,” Mara said, “so yes, you’re probably right.”
“It is more than nothing, and that is the point, dear. Nothing is only nothing. Nothing is not mystery. This is mystery. Small mystery, but still mystery, and not nothing. It’s what you choose not to show that makes them want you. So you try these. And . . .” She grabbed a lacy push-up bra that appeared to be a solid match. “And this.”
Mara stepped behind the privacy screen—they were alone in a shuttered, private shop so there was no particular need for a full dressing room until such a time as Chalmers decided to check in from the car or something—to change into the lingerie.
“Have you known Mr. Leeds for long?” Mara asked.
“You suppose I know him?” the mademoiselle countered. “Perhaps I do not. He is a man who wishes to pay for your wonderful new clothing, is that not enough?”
“But you do know him.”
“Yes, chéri, Monsieur Leeds and myself are familiar with one another. It has been five years, I suppose.”
“Does he send all of his women here?” Mara asked, realizing after it had already been said that it came off as a little bitchy.
“Oh, haha. No, you misunderstand, chéri. You are only the second of his, his women as you say, to come here. The first was from five years ago, and Monsieur Leeds and I have remained acquainted through social circles.”
“So there was another woman, but five years ago?” Mara asked. She was now blatantly digging for information but didn’t seem to have any patience for a more nuanced approach.
“It has been since three years,” Alleman answered. “But Monsieur Leeds has, I’m sure, told you of her by now.”
“He has not,” Mara admitted. “But I haven’t asked. I’m not even sure if we’re dating, Mademoiselle Alleman, or if that’s what people still do. We’ve never really talked about that either.”
“It is just the sex, then.”
“It’s better if it’s the sex first, chéri. Love, romance, relationships—these are confusing. Sex is simple. Now you must be changed. Please. Show me how they fit.”