Her Secret Life, Part Four

Hey Guys and Gals!

Michelle here. More or less. Very tired. Still. From the festival last weekend, a mini-heat-wave this week during which I got no sleep (no A/C). Add to that a trip to see my parents, I’m flat out.

I managed to MC the festival, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Exhausting without my partner. Who does all kinds of stuff that I’ve never paid attention to. Over seventeen years we formed an unspoken agenda for running the show. She did all kinds of things I had no idea about. The second bad thing was that there was no stage manager. I was down two people. It was just me and the sound guys. All two of them. But we did it. Someone brought a huge stand-up picture of my co-mc (a local celebrity) and I stood her next to me on stage and did her voice (she’s English) and mine and pretended to talk to her. People loved it. I didn’t know what else to do, actually. Our banter is what carries the show.

During the festival, in addition to announcing the bands, doing the raffles, making all the announcements for everything that’s going on and people who have lost children, etc, there is this forty-five minute local fashion show that my partner and I must also carry. We get about three minutes of instructions and guidelines about who is wearing what and then we…try to be funny for forty-five minutes. Saying it’s hard is a gross understatement. Simply entertain four hundred people for close to an hour. And this comes at the END of the festival. When my brain is really gone. And this was the year that I realized that my partner carries that show and all I do is make snarky comments. So this year, I had to carry the show AND make snarky comments. I did it. I’m glad I did it. It worked. People loved it. But we had some huge glitches. Wrong songs to the wrong outfits, sound glitches, Michelle glitches. Thankfully, I only swore once during the show. Into the microphone. To hear “SHIT!” in your voice coming from the very back of the venue is embarrassing. People were kind, however. And we made over 8000 bucks for the kids of the town for education programs, which is the purpose of the festival. So that rocked.

But I'm really glad that’s OVER. And now I get to write. Yay!!!! I’ve challenged myself this month. I’m going to write as many spanking stories as I can. I’m going to set aside the novel for right now and bank some good stories. Hubby should be pretty happy about that one. There is a direct relationship between frequency of fucking in our marriage and how many days I spend writing spanking stories. Can you imagine?

Okay, peoples. I’m going to get back to the stories. I hope you have a fantastic weekend. Next week, we continue with Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. I think.

Hugs and love to you wonderful people,
Michelle


Gary thought for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I want this to go further, our relationship. But to do that I need to know all of who you are. Everything.”

She had nothing to say. She hadn’t counted on this at all. She’d never had a relationship work before. What was she supposed to do?

He studied her. It made her uneasy.

“Let’s drop it for now,” he said. “But I better set some ground rules, just so we’re clear.”

“Ground rules?”

“Well, you obviously broke one of them today, I just thought I ought to let you know what my parameters are. What I will and will not tolerate from you.”

“Oh. Uh, okay.”

“Good. Number one rule, don’t jump in front of moving trains, okay?”

She laughed. Then stopped herself. “I know it wasn’t funny. No problem. I just kinda freaked out.”

“I’ll say. So if you do that in the future, you bet I’ll turn you over my knee and whack on you.”

“Got that. You made that very clear.”

“Next rule, you need to be honest with me. I understand if you want to keep some things to yourself, but honey, I want to know all of you. Don’t worry; I’ll love you no matter what. I’m not that much of a stickler. I’m willing to accept some differences.”

“Okay.”

“And my last rule is, never lie to me. Not only does it erode the trust between us, I just can’t tolerate liars. I’ve got a bug about it, okay?”

“Gotcha. No problem. I’m surprised you thought you had to tell me that one. I know you well enough. I mean, today surprised me, but... I suppose it’s understandable.

“You almost died today.”

“I agree, I should have stopped. I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Is that what you were worried about?”

“Yes.”

“Honey, come here. Come here,” he said reaching out and embracing her. “I couldn’t leave you. Come on, I love you, baby. I want to go the long haul with you. You’re my girl. There’s nothing you could do—short of working in porn or something—that would turn me off to the point where I would leave you.”

Working in porn. She wrote erotica. How far did this tolerance of his go? She should tell him. Get it all over with.

Or maybe she should wait, get him really bonded to her and then drop the bomb.

Gary squeezed her and said, “I’m not leaving you, but honey, it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to put the wood to you if you screw up. That was crazy today, honey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So don’t lie to me and don’t try to kill yourself and you won’t find yourself over my knee.”

He held her and petted her and then made love to her. She fell asleep in his arms, blissful.

At three in the morning, Heather woke up, paranoid. He was going to find out all her secrets and dump her, she knew it. She actually loved the guy. How was she supposed to reveal all her secrets to him? How did normal relationships work? She had no real idea how to approach this.

Then she realized that she had an erotica convention in the City that weekend. She’d forgotten all about it. She was even the guest speaker. What was she going to tell Gary?

Next morning, Gary woke her up with a lovely kiss. “Hey honey, we’re going to be late for work, get up.”

Heather wiped her eyes and stretched. “Oh, yeah, work.”

“Hey, this weekend, let’s go to the City and ride the cable cars,” he suggested.

“Uh… I have to work,” she lied quickly.

He looked surprised. “Really? When did this come up?”

Heather said, “I’d completely forgot, but we’re having some stupid seminar that I have to attend. All weekend.”

“Bummer. Oh, well, maybe the next weekend.”

“Sure, honey,” she said. She was overcome by a sense of guilt. Which was odd. Had she ever felt guilty before? She couldn’t remember.


That weekend, at the conference, Heather’s keynote speech went great. Everyone laughed at her jokes, she even got a standing ovation. Killer!

Later, she was at the book signing with all the other popular erotica writers. A huge line of fans stretched out in front of her table. It was so fun to talk to her readers and hear what they thought of her latest work.

She’d run out of books and leaned down to get some more. When she sat up again, she got ready to sign the next fan’s book. She was fumbling to get the book open—the binding was tight—and before she looked up at the person, she asked, “So in whose name would you like the inscription?”

“Gary T. Hammer.”

Heather froze. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the cool blue eyes of her lover.

©2010, Michelle Carlyle