Erotic Novels

Erotic Novels: Sheila has a Secret

  • February 1, 2015

Sheila has a secret

Submitted to Allurestorm by Alden Bradley







“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Sheila said seriously, taking a quick hit at her bourbon and ginger.

 She was, at least in my estimation, gorgeous.  Tall, perhaps five-eight or nine, with a figure straight out of the pages of the finest of men’s magazines.  Her blonde hair waved softly across her naked shoulders.  Even her fingers were long, delicate, perfect.  Her left eyebrow had a notch that gave her an air of mystery and intrigue.  Full lips, a straight nose, and cobalt-blue eyes graced the face that could have launched thousands of ships.  What she saw in me was a mystery in itself.

 “Are you married?” I asked.

 “Not anymore,” she confessed.

 “Engaged?”

 She smiled.  “With you, right now, yes.  Otherwise…”

 “I mean formally,” I pressed, somewhat testily.

 “No.”

 “I like you, Sheila.  I like who you are, how you stoop to touch the face of a child or pet a friendly dog.  I like your willingness to talk with me on any subject.  And, I especially like the way you feel in my arms when we dance.”

 She shook her head.  “That’s well and good,” she answered.  “But it is a little superficial, don’t you think?”

 “It’s a start,” I noted.

 Three weeks.  We had bumped into each other, literally, coming out of an Ancient Egyptian History class at the local community college.  I had seen her across the room and was smitten with her beauty and poise.  The bumping incident really was an accident.  It did, however, provide an opening for an invitation to coffee.  Coffee led to an occasional lunch, and eventually dinner.  The first dinner led to another, and a third, after which I finally was able to hold this beauty in my arms as we slow danced to a small jazz combo playing in the lounge.  This Wednesday evening was cocktails to be followed by dinner.



 I was coming off a bad relationship in which my ex informed me that the fire had gone out, and so had she.  Her interests had turned to a college senior, someone closer to her age, whose equipment was adequate and adoration devoted.  Truth was, I had actually become bored with her absurd dedication to reality TV and desire to achieve some level of fame as a hip-hop dancer.  She was, I decided, shallow and vapid, although she had a killer body and fucked like a mink.  Still, sex was a weak foundation for a relationship with someone virtually incapable of uttering a coherent comment other than, “Oh, my God!”  I watched her pack and helped her carry her things to her Camry.

 The respite was not entirely welcome.  Although I enjoyed the serenity of sleeping alone for a few weeks, I began to miss the stimulation of human contact, especially of the feminine variety.  That’s why I enrolled in the history class.  Looking at the beauty before me, I decided it was worth every penny of the five-hundred dollars tuition.

 For three weeks I had wooed Sheila.  The fact that I was older than most college students and weary of the games associated with establishing relationships, I confessed early on that I would be honest and straightforward.  “I don’t like mind games.  I promise to tell you what I want, need, feel and desire.  All I ask is that you do the same.”

 Sheila smiled slyly.  “Where’s the fun in that?” she asked.

 “It’s not fun,” I said rather sternly, “it’s manipulative.  I don’t like it and won’t engage in it.  If that’s what you want, then I’ve screwed up once again.”  I prepared to leave.

 “Wait,” she said, quickly.  “Don’t.”

 I set my keys back on the table.

 “You’re so damned serious,” she said.

 “It comes with having lived, worked, and circled the globe three time while I was on active duty.  About this, especially, though, yes, I am,” I responded.

 She looked at me for a long time, those cobalt-blue eyes searching my face.   “I don’t even know you,” she said finally.  “But, I’ve got a feeling.  I’d really like to find out where this is going.”

 “Me, too,” I admitted.  “I told you I’d be honest with you.”

 The cocktails were to precede a dinner at a high-end eatery.  We were still in the process of discovery.

 My question hung in the air for long seconds.

 “Where are we heading, Sheila?  I’m beginning to have feelings for you and I’d like to know if we’re moving in the same direction.”

 “You don’t know what you’re getting into,” she finally answered.

 “Then, tell me, Sheila,” I nearly begged.  “Tell me what I’m getting into.”

 “I can’t, Brian,” she said plaintively.  “If I tell you, you’ll leave me.  I know you will.  That would hurt so much.  I can’t even bear to think about it.  Please, can’t we just go on like we are?”

 “That’s bullshit, Sheila,” I snapped.  “If we go on, I’m going to want to hold you, to kiss you, to make love with you.  If this goes on I will love you.  And, then, what?  Once I love you, will you tell me then?  If it will make me leave now, what will keep me from leaving later when I know?”



 “Maybe,” she whispered, a tear falling from her right eye, “Just maybe you’ll love me enough to stay.”

 “Oh, Christ, Sheila!” I slammed out.  “What about the honesty?  What about the truth?  Are you seriously planning to get your hooks in me and then spring some surprise on me that will, I don’t know, break my heart?  Make me leave you?  Make me want to hurt you?  What?”

 “Stop it, Brian,” she pleaded.  “I can’t!  I won’t.  You won’t understand.  You’ll hate me.  God!  Don’t you know?  Don’t you know that I already love you?  You’re kind, gentle, serious, funny, strong and honest, everything that I want and need, and I love you.  Okay?  Can’t we just leave it there?”

 I was stunned.  This angel, this picture of perfection, this intriguing, interesting, educated and intellectual darling had just told me she loved me.  In so short a time, though?  Was it possible?

 It was inappropriate, but beyond my control.  I began to laugh.  It started as a small chuckle and developed, in spite of my best efforts to hold it in, into a full-blown blast of laughter.  Sheila looked surprised and a little angry.

 “I’m sorry,” I stammered as the urge faded.  “I just couldn’t help it.”

 “You think it’s funny?” Sheila was enraged.  “You think it’s funny that I love you?”

 “No, no, no,” I protested, holding up a hand as if to fend off the waves of anger flashing at me.  I took a deep breath.  “It was joy, Sheila.  Really.  I’ve never been so delighted to hear anything in my life.  Or so scared.”

 “Scared,” she said shortly.

 “Yes, scared,” I repeated.  “I’m right here on the edge.  I’m ready to go, ready to fall.  All I need is the reassurance that if I fall for you, my feelings will be returned.  So, you announce you love me.  I can release.  I can let go.  I can fall in love with you and immerse myself in you and your love.”



 “Except,” she whispered.

 “Except,” I nodded.  “Except I don’t know what I’m getting into.  Sheila, the realization of all my dreams and desires, my Sheila who loves me, Sheila, whom I desperately want to love, this Sheila has a secret.”

 “I’m sorry,” she sighed.

 “So am I, Sheila,” I told her.

 We sat in silence for a few minutes.  Sheila looked up at me.  Her eyes glistened.  She extended her hand to me, palm down.  “Come with me,” she ordered softly.

 “Where are we going?” I asked.

 “Just come with me,” she directed.

 “We have reservations,” I reminded her.

 “I’m not hungry,” she said.  She led me to the parking lot and opened the passenger-side door.  “Get in.”

 I sat as she strode purposefully to the driver’s side.  She slid into the seat, exposing a tantalizing stretch of thigh.

 “Where are we going?” I repeated as Sheila pulled out of the parking lot and drove quickly down the street.

 “My place,” she told me.

 “Sheila,” I began.  “I don’t think this is a…”

 “At this point in our relationship,” Sheila interrupted me, “I don’t really give a damn what you think.  I’m doing this because I want to.  So, just shut up and enjoy the ride.”

 There was steel in her voice, but her tone was still soft.  It was the proverbial velvet hammer.

 Sheila pulled into a gated parking lot, swiping an access card and locating a vacant space.  She wheeled in, parked, and opened the door.  “Come on,” she said.

 We walked silently to the entrance of the condo tower where Sheila again swiped her card to gain access to the lobby.  As we waited for the elevator, Sheila tapped the toe of her three-inch heel impatiently.  The elevator doors opened and she took my arm, guiding me into the car.  She pushed the button marked fifteen and the doors swooshed closed.

 Sheila turned to me.  “This is for me, Brian.  Aside from a goodnight kiss, you’ve never indicate any physical desire for me.  You’ve been a complete gentleman.  But, tonight it appears we’re at a critical juncture.  Before we move on in this relationship, I want this.”

 I shook my head slowly.  My mind was awhirl with a kaleidoscope of varying thoughts and emotions.  I was nowhere near as distinguished and suave as any man Sheila could have had with the simple crook of a finger.  She was, on the other hand, an absolute dream to look at, as well as being intelligent, sharp as a well-honed blade, and secure in her own skin.  Aside from what she had said in the bar, I was clueless as to what she saw in me, what fired her attraction to me, indeed, what had led to her assertion of love.



 We entered her condo by means of another swipe of her key card.  She closed the door firmly behind her after ushering me inside.  The lights were dim and the furnishings light.  A large glass access door to the balcony allowed the lights of the city to gleam into the room.  There was a feeling of openness and airy comfort.

 She purposefully placed the key card on a small table that led back to the entrance alcove and turned to face me.  She stepped confidently into my space, wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me to her for a kiss.

 Fireworks would be an understatement.  My mind exploded with the sensations of that kiss.  It was soft as silk, warm as a muffin, and passionate as any lover’s embrace.  She opened her lips and pressed her tongue against mine, forcefully demanding entrance.  This was not merely a kiss.   It was a statement of exploration and demand.  I felt completely absorbed into this amazing woman, feeling her need and desire.

 “I knew it,” she whispered after ending the kiss.  “I just knew it would be like this.”  She leaned into me again, her lips pressing on my own.

 I couldn’t resist the temptation to envelop her trim waist in my own hands.  Her firm body felt smooth, soft, but resilient under my fingers.  I continued to marvel at her perfection.

 Sheila pulled back from me and looked into my eyes, her hands cupping my face.  “I want you, Brian.  I want you in my bed and in my body.”

 “Sheila,” I hesitatingly stammered, “please.”

 “Tell me you don’t want me,” she challenged, her eyes flashing.

 “You know better,” I admitted.

 “Then come to my bed,” she whispered.  “No strings, I promise.  Just make love to me.”

 “God!”  I whispered back.  “I want to.  I want to love you and make love to you.  I want to feel your flesh under my hands and my lips.  I desperately want to.  But, we have this thing.”

 “No, we don’t,” she said.  “All we have is each other.”

 “This secret, then,” I began, “has it disappeared?  Is it resolved?”

 She looked into my eyes.  “For now,” she said.  “This may not be smart,” she continued, “but it is what I want.  And I know that it’s what you want, too.”

 “I do, Sheila,” I argued.  “But, I can’t.  I need more assurance than a temporary set-aside.  Please, just tell me the secret.  Tell me what it is, let me help you deal with it, and then we can be together.  Please,” I begged.  “I’m on the verge of trying to guess.  I care for you too much to do that.”

 Sheila pulled me close to her.  Her head rested on my shoulder.  “I can’t,” she whispered.  “You’ll hate me.”

 I gently seperated us, my hands on her shoulders.  I sighed deeply.  “How do you know?”

 “Because,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks, “because I know you.  You won’t be able to stand it.”

 “Okay,” I said softly.  “This is making me crazy.  You have got to tell me, and you have to tell me now.  Please don’t let this get in the way of our relationship.  Don’t make me walk out of here without an explanation.  Don’t end us in mistrust and secrecy.”

 Sheila’s shoulders sagged in resignation.  Her words were so soft as to be inaudible.  “All right.”



 She led me to an L-shaped sofa and sat me down.  She moved to the DVD player and inserted a disk.  She carried the remote control with her as she sat opposite me.

 “I told you I was married once,” she began.

 I nodded.

 “He was a producer.  I was addicted to his power and influence.  I didn’t realize that he was, in his heart, mean and manipulative.  He made me do things that I have come to regret.  I am not who I was back then, though, Brian.”

 “Is that it?” I asked.  “You’re husband, you’re ex-husband, manipulated you into doing something you regret doing?  That’s it?”

 She pressed a button on the remote.

 I sat wide-eyed and astounded as I watched the stunning Sheila suck multiple cocks, lick pussy and undergo an airtight assault of three different cocks, two of them black.

 “The white guy was my husband.  He fancied himself quite an actor as well as a producer,” she explained.

 I watched in silence for thirty minutes or so.  Finally I ordered Sheila to stop the show.  “Enough,” I said.  “I’ve seen enough.”

 “That’s my secret, Brian.  I’m not proud of it.  And, now I’m sure you hate me.”

 “I’m surprised at you,” I said slowly.  “I always believed you were smart, that you had a good head square on your shoulders.”

 “I made a huge mistake,” she admitted.

 “That you did,” I told her.  “You underestimated yourself and you underestimated me.”

 Sheila looked like she’d been slapped.

 “How many of these are there?” I asked her.

 “Thirty-four,” she answered.  “Well, thousands in distribution, but thirty-four titles.”

 “How long did you,” I paused, “act?”

 “Five years, more or less.”

 “That’s more than six a year,” I noted.  “Do you have copies of them all?”

 “I don’t know why I kept them,” Sheila said.

 “Do you watch them?”

 “God, no!  This is the first time I’ve played one since the divorce.”

 “Anything else I should know about?”

 “This isn’t enough?”

 I chuckled.  “I mean, other than emotionally, were you scarred, deformed, injured in any way?”

 “No,” she said.

 I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from my chest.  In its place, the vacancy left by release of pressure, my heart expanded exponentially.  It was, I recognized, love.  I took Sheila’s hands in mine.

 “Okay,” I told her, “the slate is clean.  When I was a kid, I was pretty much a delinquent.  I never got arrested, but I did things like put cherry bombs in mailboxes, spray painted vacant buildings, and hung with a pretty rough crowd.  But, that’s not who I am, now.  You were a porn star.  A damned fine one, too, from what I’ve seen.  Point is, unless you’re porking the Bengals or something…”  I paused while watching Sheila shake her head, “that’s not who you are now, either.”



 “But it is so sordid,” she protested.

 “Sheila, I don’t care,” I stated emphatically.  “I love you.  I love the you that you’ve become.”

 “What happens if somebody recognizes me?” she asked plaintively.

 “Fuck ’em,” I said.  “I don’t mean that literally, of course.  But, to hell with them.  Hell, anybody who does recognize you will probably be jealous that I’ve landed the hot one.”

 Sheila laughed aloud for the first time in a week.  “You really mean that?”

 “I do,” I repeated.  “Damn!  That sounds like what they say at a wedding.”

 Sheila looked sheepishly at the floor.  “I don’t mind if you practice.”

 I stood up and extended my arms to her.  “What about the other?”

 “What other?”

 “Practice,” I said.  “Do you still want me in your bed and in your body?  We could practice that.”

 “I do,” she said, and then laughed aloud again.

 She took my arm and led me toward her bedroom.  “I suppose you’ll be expecting all sorts of sexual acrobatics now,” she said.

 “No, darling,” I told her.  “Sex is sex and love is love.  I intend that we should first make love.”

 “It’s no wonder I love you like I do,” she grinned.

 “Right,” I nodded.  “The sexual acrobatics we’ll save for later.”

 Sheila punched my arm, ushered me into her bedroom and closed the door behind us.

 

Submitted by:

Alden Bradley

Tags: Aldenauthor, eroticstraight, eroticstories,

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