I have a new short story out! “Beware the Ides of March” is an erotic short story about a married couple sampling a little BDSM, with the intense, muscular husband (Grant) as the dominant and the hard-working wife (Laura) as the submissive—but who is certainly no push-over).
Below, I’m offering up a good portion of the story at the beginning. To tease you a bit, you see. But I’m also offering the story for free until Tuesday (March 18). That’s right, baby: FREE. F …R … double E!
You can download the epub file over at Smashwords for free for this limited time. (You may have to click the Adult Content in the blue menu bar at top to view it.) I’m hoping you’ll like it and check out my other ebooks and maybe even tell your good friends about them. (The story is also available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble if you’d rather download it from there; at a low cost of 99 cents.)
First, please know that this short story (7,678 words) is a work of erotic fiction meant for mature readers only who are aged 18 years and older. Characters in this story are older than 18 and engage in consensual sexual intercourse.
The description of the story is:
Beware the Ides of March. In Shakespeare’s play, it was the warning the soothsayer gave to Julius Caesar. And it’s the warning that Laura receives from her husband, Grant, in a text message.
But what does it mean?
Laura has no idea, but puts it to the side as she works hard in her office on a Saturday to finish a big job.
When she returns home, she finds out what the warning means. How it leads to giving up control, feeling the danger and helplessness of giving into Grant’s commands. And by giving into him, feeling the wondrous heights of pleasure that come with it.
And now for a nice, lengthy preview…
* * * * *
BABE: Beware the Ides of March.
The text message from her husband made no sense to Laura. Yes, it was March 15. But why should she—who most certainly was not Julius Caesar—beware of it? She texted that question back to Grant, but he didn’t send back a reply.
Grant wasn’t a Shakespeare guy. Not at all. But then, didn’t everybody know that line from the soothsayer’s mouth to Caesar’s ear? It was a famous line, like “To be or not to be.” One of those lines that was known by people who hadn’t seen a movie based on a Shakespeare play—much less cracked open a book of one of his plays and devoured it. No, Grant certainly did not devour Shakespeare.
So, what the hell what this about? she asked herself. He just threw that odd text message out there and left her hanging. It wasn’t the kind of joke that he would usually pull. He was too straightforward for that. If it actually was a joke, it was a bizarre one. One that wasn’t funny at all.
Did it have something to do with basketball? she wondered. The big college tournament during March?
Grant said he’d be hanging out with buddies today and watching some games. Laura imagined him in a living room full of guys lounging back on sofas and easy chairs, beers in their hands, hats on backwards or forwards or sideways, potato chips and pizzas on the coffee table. So it was in this scenario that Grant texted her the message? It didn’t make sense. Laura was as shaken as Caesar had been upon hearing the warning.
After ten minutes, there was still no answer from Grant in response to Laura’s text that asked him what he meant.
She sighed and shook her head to try to tumble those questions to the back of her mind. Better to focus on work and get the hell out of the office as soon as possible. Being there on a Saturday wasn’t anyone’s idea of fun. Still, she wanted to do a good job. Fun or not, she wanted to be proud of what she did.
Unfortunately, the work didn’t go as fast as she hoped. The proposal’s deadline was hard and fast, and so she and her office mates pushed to get the work finished on time.
Beware of Saturday overtime, she thought. Makes much more sense than that Beware the Ides of March nonsense. But she put her head down, figuring that loose thoughts weren’t exactly going to help her get the work done.
Thankfully, she was able to forget his text for the time being and instead focused on her job. It was a skill that had done her well in her career, to work efficiently and thoroughly and do some damn good work. This time, it was for a proposal that the firm was going to send out for more business. That meant self-preservation, since landing the large contract with the clothing company would lead to more work for Laura’s firm to develop a new advertising campaign for them. And more business was a good thing. Something she worked hard as hell for. Her success was proof of that.
Then the big boss called them all in the conference room. Once everyone was packed in—with standing-room only—he looked around and smiled. As that smile grew on his face, everyone knew the news was going to be good, and they’d be heading out soon. There was a collective sigh of relief.
“Great job, everybody,” the boss said. “This”—he held up a stack of papers that was the result of their work—“is a fucking gem. ’Scuse my cursing, but it is. It’s a polished, well-crafted gem. Lots of good ideas in there. They’d be idiots not to pick us.” He set the papers down on the conference table that had a gorgeous wood grain, then he looked back up at them. “And I’d be an idiot to not show my appreciation to you guys. Seriously. You’ve out-done yourselves on this one. It’s a Goddamned gem. This, as you well know, would be huge. It would be stepping up to the next rung on the ladder for us. Dealing more with the big guys.” He grinned a wide smile, and it was obvious to all around the room that he very much enjoyed the idea of dealing with firms larger than theirs. “But now, it’s out of our hands. We’ll send off our gem of a proposal to get printed up in a beautiful package and off it goes. Then it’s up to them to choose three firms to give them presentations. We all know we’ll be invited to that.” He paused again, relishing the moment. “But that’s for another day.”
Again, the boss beamed like a proud father as he took a long pause to look around at his employees and relished in the moment. Pride also swelled in Laura. It was a job well done. Well executed by the team working together to create an impressive result. What their boss called a “gem.” If having a gem wasn’t worth all that work, she didn’t know what was. It certainly made coming into the office on a Saturday worth it. It was that sweet feeling of completing a tall task. That sweet feeling of victory. Not victory like a rush of armies invading other countries to expand the empire. No, but this was the equivalent in the modern corporate world. Expanding the empire. Dealing more with the big guys. Taking them on. Laura loved working for a boss who felt the same way. It got her pulse racing a bit quicker. He wasn’t exactly man-meat material, though. Not a classical beauty. Not like Grant. Still, Laura was turned on by the spirit of her boss.
He cleared his throat and said, “Now get the hell out of here. I don’t want to see any of you until Tuesday. So you still get two days off. Enjoy them. Get some rest. Have some fun. And be ready to come back and kick some more ass. Now that this proposal’s done, we have to get back to the projects that we already have. And we need to hit ’em hard. Got it?”
“Got its” came from around the room as the employees broke their audience stances and began to move for the exit. Some of them had lit-up faces with the excitement of being done. Others wore expressions of bitterness at having to be in the office so long—and on a weekend.
“Finally,” Melissa said with a hefty exhale. She was standing next to Laura and said her gratitude softly so that only the people nearby would hear.
Laura frowned at her. Usually, Laura liked Melissa’s dry sense of humor. Hardly the office clown, Melissa’s wit showed a deep intelligence and a keen perspective on the world, especially the strangeness of pop culture.
They walked out of the conference room and into the hallway, but Laura followed Melissa’s lead and spoke in a low volume, so as to not draw attention: “Hey, we worked our butts off. We did an amazing job on that proposal.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Melissa replied. “I’m just fried, and I’m so ready for a long line of wine glasses. Time to call the troops and hit a bar or three. Are you in?”
Laura imagined the scene again of Grant with his friends, all lounging about and watching basketball. That morning, he had told Laura that he still wanted to spend Saturday evening with her. But what kind of shape was he in now? After lots of beers, was he going to be a good date for the night?
“Let me check in with Grant first,” Laura said to Melissa. “We had tentative plans, but let me see first. I’ll get back to you, okay?”
Melissa shot her a smirk and said, “Oh, you married people. So much responsibility.” Her eyebrows raised. “But at least you get it regularly.”
Laura remembered that time, months ago, when Melissa was in Laura’s office and noticed the photos of Grant on her desk. “Very nice,” Melissa had cooed back then. “He’s a looker, all right.” She paid particular attention to the photo of Laura and Grant at a beach-side restaurant. They were tanned and happy in the sunshine. Toothy grins. Laura loved it for how relaxed and content they were during that vacation. Melissa, however, probably loved it more for how Grant’s arms looked as they bulged out of his light blue tank top. Laura was well aware of where her co-worker’s attention lay. After all, during that beach vacation, there was a good deal of attention directed toward her husband from the ladies. And a few men. She, in turn, had also turned a good many heads. She had to admit that she enjoyed the attention on them. They both worked very hard in the gym for their bodies. Let ’em eat it up, she had thought during that vacation. Let ’em fantasize. I’m the only one who gets to feast on this hunk of man-meat.
Back at the office, Laura took in stride Melissa’s comment about getting it regularly. It was simple jealousy. Melissa wanted to get a good wine buzz going and get hammered by a stud muffin. And, really, who could blame her? It made for a great way to spend a Saturday night. Or, well, any old night. Laura didn’t want to make a smart-ass remark back to Melissa.
Instead, Laura merely said, “At least you don’t have to deal with all the sweaty socks and beard hair on the sink. It’s not all a paradise.”
“Ah, I could manage that for what I’d get in return.”
* * * * *
I hope you enjoyed this teaser. If you want to read the rest of the story for free, go snatch it up at Smashwords before March 18!
Please note that the model on the cover image is from stock photography and is used for illustrative purposes only; inclusion on the cover is not meant to imply model’s involvement in the activities described in this story.