Stuart Aken's Blog, page 258

The Circle, by Somerset Maugham, Reviewed

A play very much of its time, The Circle, nevertheless touches lightly on themes which continue to have relevance today. Superficially dealing with infidelity and its consequences, there are deeper threads that weave around the war of the sexes, real love, class and sex.
It’s set in the home of a man of independent wealth, a man who is also a Member of Parliament with a ‘position’ in society. His wife is, of course, beautiful and much younger. She is also, predictably, bored by her life of privilege and ease. The plot revolves around the fact that the MP’s father was deserted by his equally beautiful and superficial wife in the name of love, and he is quickly revealed to be in the same boat as his father shortly after the play opens. Just in case you’ve either never heard of the play, or might have the chance to see it, I won’t spoil the ending by revealing the outcome.
As a seed bed for comedy, the situation ought to be bursting with potential life. Unfortunately, the comedy of manners here doesn’t travel through time as well as the famous Pride and Prejudice. I think the reason for that is that it’s very difficult for a modern reader to have any true empathy with any of the characters. The only ‘common’ man in the cast is as difficult to like as are the spoilt brats of the upper classes that take most of the roles.
There’s some amusement to be had by laughing at rather than with the players at times. But I found it sparse for a play that’s described as ‘comedy in three acts’. I was mostly either appalled at the utter hypocrisy and shallowness of the people portrayed or indifferent to their perceived problems or their fate. It wasn’t that their problems were unreal, merely that they, as individuals, failed to convince me that I should give a damn.
I’ve no doubt that gifted actors and a bright director could bring more to this play than I gleaned from the page. But I wouldn’t be tempted to make a trip to the theatre to watch it. Just possibly, were it to appear on the goggle box on a wet afternoon when I had nothing else to do, I might start watching it. For me, it lacked the wit that lifts Wilde’s plays above such considerations and it left a taste of self-satisfaction and smugness in the mouth.

Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 32

If you haven’t started reading Breaking Faith, the reviews under the 'My Books' tab may persuade you to give it a try.
To those making the journey, I say, ‘Enjoy the ride.’
I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number.
If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends along.
Chapter 32
Monday 5th July
There were too many things to do at once. Nobody could possibly learn to drive a car and co-ordinate all those movements. It was far too complex.But, to my complete amazement, I was driving in straight lines and round corners by the end of the first morning. Michael, who was instructing me and Tony, an older pupil who was sharing the car, even persuaded me to drive the car back from the airfield to the school at lunchtime. By late afternoon, he was confident enough to let me drive along a few streets in a nearby village. Tony was doing less well, crunching the gears and stalling the engine so often I expected Michael to lose his temper, but he never did.In the evening, we relaxed and drank beer or wine with the meal. Leigh’s introduction to this social habit meant I was able to pace myself and was never in danger of becoming drunk, unlike some of them.Shirley sidled up to me in the middle of the evening and whispered in my ear as she inclined her head toward one of the younger men pupils. ‘Give us a couple of hours before you come up, eh, Faith? I’d do the same for you.’‘I don’t mind if you have sex with him, but let me know when you’ve finished so I can get some sleep.’‘I’m to send him down so he can tell you we’ve had a good screw and you can come to bed, is that it?’‘That’s right, but I don’t want chapter and verse. Try not to keep him up there too long.’‘I’m hoping to keep him up there for as long as possible. I can do without P.E., baby. I’m planning on a set of O’s to stand my hair on end.’‘Well, I’m tired and I’d like to get to bed fairly early.’She shook her head in the way a lot of people did when I spoke to them, as if they had difficulty in believing what I said. As she went to the stairs, she beckoned the man to follow her. He glanced at me as he passed. ‘Try not to stay up there all night, won’t you?’‘Chance’d be a fine thing.’ He followed Shirley up the stairs.Some of the others stared at me but looked away when I met their eyes. Tony signalled I should join him and I sat beside him on the sofa as the television bombarded the room with a suburban drama.‘You know she’s told everyone, don’t you?’‘Who’s told everyone what, Tony?’‘You really are as innocent as you seem, aren’t you? I had it down as an act at first, but in the car it was obvious you’re naïve to the point of vulnerability.’‘Leigh says I’m naïve. Innocent as well. He’s like Shirley when it comes to my attitude to sex; it’s as if they think there’s something wrong with me.’‘Intriguing mixture and contradiction. You’re clearly as innocent as you seem, yet, if Shirley’s to be believed, you’re happy walking about stark naked.’‘Is that a contradiction, then?’‘Most people would think so, you’ll find.’‘Why?’‘In most people’s minds, nudity and sex are inextricably linked. You seem to manage to keep them separate. In fact I’m not sure you even make a connection between them in your own mind.’‘Oh, I see the connection, Tony. People take off their clothes to have sex. But that doesn’t make being naked a signal for sex. I bathe naked, as I expect everyone does. I swim naked, because clothes are an encumbrance when you’re in water. And I sleep naked because it’s more comfortable and, as I’m alone, I see no need for cover.’‘A logical and mostly unarguable response. But, let me put this to you; there’s a swimming pool outside. It’s hot; would you swim if others could see you?’‘I’ll have to forgo the swimming, unfortunately.’‘What about a bikini or swimsuit?’‘I’d prefer not. Swimsuits and bikinis are designed to draw male eyes to the very parts that women aren’t supposed to show. It’s very hypocritical and I’d rather not encourage that sort of voyeurism. Though, I suppose if there were other people also wearing swimsuits, I wouldn’t feel so conspicuous, so I might do it then.’‘I doubt if one person in ten thousand understands the reality of female swimwear. You’re the most extraordinary mixture of sophistication and innocence I’ve ever come across, Faith. You’re also an extremely attractive woman. If I were single, I’d enjoy the challenge of wooing you and trying to get you into bed.’I was confident he was speaking hypothetically and not intending to get me into bed, as he put it. ‘You wouldn’t have sex with me unless we were in love and married, Tony. I have very definite views about that.’‘Why?’‘It’s obvious! That sort of intimacy and trust depends on real commitment to each other. Sex leads to pregnancy and children should be brought up in stable relationships.’‘Plenty of reliable contraception about. Not catholic, are you?’‘Certainly not! I take the pill; Mum said I need to be safe, just in case, as she put it. But I only take it for her sake. I’m not going to test its contraceptive powers. Commitment’s what really matters.’‘So, casual sex is a no-no. What about a stable but non-marital relationship?’‘Surely if two people love each other enough to stay together, they should be married?’‘And sex before marriage?’‘I don’t think so.’‘Suppose you find you’re not sexually compatible after you’ve got married? Suppose the wedding night turns out to be a disaster with you incapable of accepting him or, possibly worse, him incapable?’‘Leigh’s never had any difficulty with any other woman. Of course, I don’t know whether or not I could take a man’s penis inside my vagina, but I’m a normal woman as far as I know and I see no reason why there should be a problem. In any case, sex isn’t everything.’‘There speaks someone who’s never experienced it. Sex without love is at best a physical joy, at worst a degrading disaster. But love without sex is simply incomplete; it’s half a life.’I was interested in what Tony was saying but he stopped when it became clear some of the group were listening to our chat.‘Trying to talk Faith out of her knickers, Tony?’‘Bit past it, aren’t you?’‘Watch him, Faith, he’s only after your body.’‘And you’re not?’Tony’s expression and embarrassment confirmed he wasn’t trying to persuade me to have sex with him. He shrugged at me with his face and I smiled my understanding. But the mood and opportunity were gone and I was left to consider alone what he’d said.Shirley came down with the man and I went straight up to bed. I was slipping into sleep as she returned. ‘Everyone’s gone to bed. Fancy a swim?’It was late and I was tired but the night was uncomfortably warm and the idea was very tempting. I thought it might help relax me. ‘Won’t we be seen?’‘No chance. They’re all tucked up. I’ve just checked. And it’s dark enough, isn’t it?’I was convinced, largely because the prospect of a swim in the moonlight in the safety of a cool pool was very attractive. It seemed likely we’d be safe from prying eyes if Shirley, with her odd prudery, was willing to risk it. ‘Come on, then. What are we waiting for?’I took a towel from the bathroom and slipped a sundress on. Shirley followed suit and we sneaked downstairs, giggling quietly at our daring as we tiptoed through the darkened building and out into the sultry night. A few quick steps along the paved area at the side of the house and we were by the pool.‘I’ve got to have a wee. Jump in if you like; I’ll join you in a sec. There’s one in the bar.’ Shirley wandered back into the house and I slipped my dress over my head and put it with my towel on a plastic sunbed. Very quietly, I slipped into the water, cool and deliciously refreshing after the clamminess of the day.I was in the middle of my second length when the pool lights came on. At first, I was puzzled but then I looked about me and saw students and staff round the edge of the pool, clothed, of course, watching me. Shirley was with them, looking very pleased with herself.I realized I was the butt of a joke but I was determined not to rise to the bait. They all expected me to rush from the pool and treat them to a view of my naked body clear of the water. So I stayed in the pool, ignored them and continued to swim. They had only a view of my back and bottom, distorted by the water.Some grew bored and went back inside. A couple of the men sat on the sun lounger either side of my dress and towel, prepared to wait for me to emerge.To my surprise and delight, Michael, my instructor calmly removed his clothes. ‘Don’t know about you lot, but I’m going to join our nymph.’ And he jumped into the pool and swam alongside me.‘Thank you.’‘Faith, it’s a pleasure. Dirty trick to play on an innocent like you. If I’d realized what they were about, I wouldn’t have joined them.’It wasn’t long before others did the same. The swimming quickly degenerated into a splashing party. I took the opportunity to leave the chaos of the pool, wrap my towel around me and pick up my dress just as the noise brought out the school Principal in his dressing gown. He stood and looked at them all frolicking for a moment, turned his glance on me, frozen in his stare like a startled rabbit in headlights, shrugged and went back inside. I followed and found he’d stopped just inside the door.‘I’m surprised at you, Miss Heacham. I was led to believe you were a shy and innocent young lady. So sad to find my natural cynicism proved right. Good night to you.’ He turned and was gone through one of the downstairs doors, leaving me feeling somehow responsible for what had happened.I returned to my room. Shirley followed a short time afterwards and had the grace to look sheepish as she came in.‘I don’t understand why you did that, Shirley.’‘Shit. It was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry. One of the men put me up to it and I didn’t really think. Thought it might be fun, a bit of a laugh, you know? I really am sorry, Faith. I hope you weren’t too embarrassed.’‘I enjoyed my swim. I’d have enjoyed it more if I hadn’t been the object of an attempt to ridicule and embarrass me. Fortunately, most of them did what I expected they would when I ignored them. Ignoring people works really well in all sorts of situations, Shirley. I’m going to dry my hair and go to sleep.’I turned away from her. She tried to talk to me but I made no response. It wasn’t long before she got the message and became silent. After that, I spoke to Shirley only when necessary; otherwise, I ignored her completely.The days passed, with busy times in the car and frequent questions about driving and the Highway Code. The evenings followed a regular pattern but I didn’t swim again and I never got another opportunity to explore with Tony. The group seemed to think I shouldn’t be left alone with any of the men. Shirley used our room each night and I went straight to bed after he’d left her.Thursday night I glowed with pride as I won the Highway Code quiz again. This time, the prize was a case of wine, which I saved for the party on Friday night. Just one bottle went into my case to take back to Longhouse.On Friday morning, I was leaving the bathroom after my shower when Shirley, sitting on the edge of her bed, beckoned me across. I remained where I was but waited.‘I’m really sorry about what I did on Monday night. I wanted to find a way of making it up to you.’She sounded genuine and I was willing to listen. ‘By all means.’‘Never used it, have you?’ She pointed at my vagina. ‘Don’t know what a thrill it can give you as well as a man?’‘I assume it holds considerable pleasure. It certainly seems to be the source of a huge amount of attention. I admit, I’m dumfounded by the amount of time and effort people put into attaining that pleasure.’She took a small package from her bedside table. ‘I bought this when I was in Colchester, yesterday. Don’t open it now; we’d both be embarrassed. But promise you’ll have a good go when you get home.’It looked and felt like a book. I could see no harm in that. ‘I promise. Thank you, Shirley. And, since it seems to matter to you, I accept your apology.’‘You’re a strange woman, Faith. One of the oddest people I’ve ever met, in fact. I’ll miss your innocence and honesty. Good luck in your test.’I put the book with my things. ‘Good luck to you, too.’‘Oh, I’ll need more than luck. Keep your fingers crossed that I get a male examiner. I just might have a chance then.’I popped on a summer dress and flat shoes so I’d be comfortable driving and left her to her extensive preparations.As I helped myself to scrambled egg and crisp bacon, Tony cupped my chin in his hand and kissed my cheek. ‘Good luck, Faith. You’ll pass with flying colours.’‘Thank you.’ I felt as if I should do something in return and I kissed his cheek. ‘Good luck to you, too.’‘Luck isn’t goin to do it for me, Faith. I’m a terrible driver.’‘You just need to relax, that’s all. You’re trying too hard. Imagine it’s just another lesson and there’s no one else there. I’ve watched you, Tony, and all that’s wrong is that you’re too tense.’‘This is my seventh attempt and I’ve no reason to believe I’ll do any better than the other six hopeless failures. But thanks anyway. And I’ll try what you advise. What have I got to lose?’‘Relax and enjoy it. Think of it as an experience. After all, as you said yourself, you’ve nothing to lose.’I ate breakfast at a table full of people who were either silent and thoughtful or nervously garrulous. The tutors went round with words of encouragement and final bits of advice.Shirley came down at last, made up to the nines and wearing her shortest skirt and tightest blouse with no bra and displaying as much cleavage as her breasts allowed.‘He’ll not bother to test you, Shirley, just invite you into the bushes before he signs the pass certificate.’She did a little curtsy to the admirer she’d had in her bed every night of the course.‘Unless, of course, you get that ugly woman examiner. Then, you never know, she might be a raging dyke and take a fancy to you.’Shirley glowered at the other woman’s warning and sat down to eat a slice of toast and drink her first of many coffees. She lit up immediately afterwards. She would chain smoke until her test at three o’clock.Michael took Tony and me out separately for just under an hour each. At his suggestion and with Tony’s blessing, I then drove the three of us to the test centre in Colchester.I’d driven in the town a few times during the week and knew all the places I was likely to go on the test. North Hill, the steep climb from the station, wouldn’t be used for the hill start as it was too busy, but there were plenty of other likely spots.My examiner was tall and bald and wore a weary expression. He looked too hot already in his tweed jacket with its leather patches at the elbows. As he came into the waiting room and called my name, Michael wished me luck again and Tony gave me a thumbs-up sign.The eyesight test was easy and I remembered every stage for starting the car and moving into traffic. At first, I thought everything was going against me as every set of traffic lights went red at my approach. But we made it to the quieter part of the town and drove down a tree-lined road that led to one of the army barracks. He explained how he would test my ability to stop in an emergency and I was listening but looking where I was going when a squirrel ran from the side of the road into my path. There was nothing behind us so I braked to avoid it and then continued without stalling.‘I think we’ll give the emergency stop a miss, Miss, after that.’We approached the hill where I expected to be tested only to find a short queue of traffic following a slow moving tractor. I was forced to stop half a dozen times because of the cars in front and he said that would do for the hill start. The three-point turn and reversing round the corner went relatively well; at least I managed not to stall or hit the kerb.‘Back to the Test Centre, Miss Heacham.’I sat in the car and answered his questions on the Highway Code. He said nothing apart from what he had to say to conduct the test and I thought his sombre silence signalled failure. I watched his nicotine stained fingers use an expensive pen to fill in some forms.He handed me a signed sheet of paper. ‘Congratulations, Miss Heacham. I hope you continue to drive as well as you have today. Thank you for the rare pleasure of a stress-free interval.’He shook my hand and went into the centre to collect Tony. I stood outside and looked at the piece of paper and realized I was crying.Of the twelve of us, only Shirley and one of the younger men failed. Tony, to his great delight and surprise, scraped a pass.Some left that afternoon, when we returned to the school; Shirley among them. A great walrus of a man driving a battered van collected her. He sneered at her scornfully as she slipped into the car beside him and swore loudly when she admitted failing again. I saw her dabbing at her eyes as the van set off down the lane.The rest of us had a celebration party and I opened the case of red wine to share and drank a little too much.During the evening, the Principal approached and shook my hand. ‘It appears I owe you an apology, Miss Heacham. I am now in full possession of the facts regarding the incident at the swimming pool and understand you were an innocent, if somewhat naïve, victim of a rather juvenile prank. It’s heartening to discover someone with such purity in our midst in these times of licence and loose morals. Congratulations on passing your test. And thank you for the wine, which I understand you donated after winning the Highway Code quiz.’‘I couldn’t take it home on the train, so I thought I might as well let everyone enjoy themselves.’‘As generous as you are delightful.’ He gave a little bow and went to talk to one of the female tutors.Tony escorted me to my room at the end of the evening and I reached up and kissed him in thanks and congratulations. He held my shoulders and moved me away from him firmly but gently. ‘If I wasn’t a happily married gentleman I might take that as an invitation and make you wake in the morning full of regret.’‘If you weren’t such a gentleman, Tony, I wouldn’t have kissed you.’He smiled and shook his head. ‘You’d make a lovely daughter. I hope your dad’s proud of you.’‘He is.’‘Why the sudden sadness?’‘Sorry. Dad’s dying, you see.’He just took me in his arms and held me as the unstoppable tears came. He took me into my room and sat beside me, on my bed, held me and dabbed my eyes with a handkerchief. It was a while before I settled but he stayed, comforting me.Once I was in control, he went to the door. ‘You got me through my test today, Faith. You made me see where I’ve been going wrong and gave me the strength to take a risk. I feel privileged to know you and I’ll miss you. Lock the door behind me. Not all men are so considerate after a few drinks. And you’re a very tempting package wrapped like that.’The departure was an odd time with all of us leaving at different points during the morning.The Principal came to me whilst I was having breakfast and placed a parcel on the table. ‘We thought it a little unjust that you shouldn’t make some personal gain from your quiz prize and we all felt your generosity and the positive contribution you have made to the course warranted some recognition. Please accept this on behalf of the tutors, your fellow pupils and the school.’A smattering of applause alerted me to the eyes of everyone watching. ‘Thank you.’The parcel contained a large road atlas and I was proud of myself for not letting them know I had no car and little prospect of owning one in the near future. The thought behind the present, however, made me feel wonderful and I stood and made a little curtsy as I’d seen other women respond in such circumstances.Tony went early, just before me, and gave me a hug and kiss in farewell.Simon took me back to North Station. Just beyond the school, he stopped the car and urged me into the driving seat. ‘I’m not supposed to let you drive, but… what the hell?’I caught him looking at me. ‘Am I attractive, Simon?’‘Is the Pope a Catholic?’‘I imagine he has to be. But what…?’‘It’s just an expression – I thought you’d have heard…’‘Oh. I mean it, Simon; I want to know. I don’t mind you looking at me.’He turned and had a good look at me. ‘You’re a very lovely woman, Faith. But you’re a real puzzle. I’ve never come across a woman as attractive and sexy as you who, “a” doesn’t know it and, “b” doesn’t take advantage of it. You’ve not tried to seduce any of the men into doing things for you; you’ve not pretended to be something you’re not. I wish I had time to get to know you better. I’ve a feeling you’d make a damned good friend even if you wouldn’t be prepared to be a lover.’‘Thank you for your honesty, Simon.’‘There, that’s what I mean. Most women would’ve found something to criticize in what I just said. I’d have been accused of chatting them up or being too slushy or taking the Mick. You just accept what I say at face value. It’s a refreshing quality, Faith. I hope you never lose it.’‘If I asked you to have sex with me, what would you say?’He was quiet for a moment before he laughed very softly, almost too soft for me to hear. ‘There you go again. With any other woman, that could only be interpreted as an invitation. Oh, it’s all right, Faith, I know it’s not what you meant. With you, it’s a straightforward question. But please be careful who you ask that sort of question and in what circumstances. Some men would definitely take it as a request and wouldn’t easily accept your refusal afterwards. But to answer your question; I’d be honoured, delighted, chuffed to buggery and I’d feel I was the luckiest man alive.’‘Oh. So there’s nothing off-putting or odd about me, then?’‘Odd’s a funny word. You’re unusual, but you’re neither odd nor off-putting in any way. You’re perfect, Faith. Don’t change.’‘So, if I took off all my clothes and said you could put your penis in my vagina, you’d want to do it?’‘You’re being unfair. I know you don’t mean to. I would certainly want to do it. I do want to do it. Can we change the subject, please? You’re putting pictures into my mind that I know on a rational level are not on offer, but my marriage equipment doesn’t appear to know that.’‘You mean just thinking about sex with me is enough to make you have an erection?’He shook his head and laughed out loud. ‘What the hell? See for yourself.’ He shifted slightly in his seat and I glanced and saw what he meant.‘I see. I’m responsible for that?’‘I don’t see any other female flesh about. Now, can we talk about something else; anything else, even the weather?’I felt sorry for having caused his discomfort, but it seemed anything I might do would only make it worse. So I talked about the weather, which was hot, sultry and cloudless. By the time we reached the station, he was in a fit state to carry my case onto the platform for me. I kissed him in thanks and he embraced me, holding me very tight as if he never wanted to let me go. It felt nice but not the way it did when Leigh held me.‘I don’t know who’ll be your first, Faith, but I hope he’s worthy of you. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just go through life comparing every other woman with you and remaining unsatisfied until I die.’ He made a strange laughing sound and I was left with the disturbing feeling that what he’d said wasn’t entirely a joke.‘I hope you find a woman you’re happy with and who loves you, Simon.’‘Thanks, but I don’t think that’s very likely now.’ He left just as the train came in, saying he had to get back to the school with the car.Hot, bright sunshine had filled my week down south and it continued during my short time in London. I took a taxi, after I’d left my case at King’s Cross, and found the shops in the area Shirley had advised as we talked just before she’d gone. I’d commiserated with her for her failure.‘It’s a divine judgement on me for playing that awful trick on you. I should never have done it.’Tony had shaken his head as she walked away. ‘Nothing to do with the fact that Shirley’s driving is worse than mine, of course.’But she’d answered my questions about shopping for clothes in London and named the King’s Road as the best place.‘You’ve got to try that Vivienne Westwood place, it’s amazing.’The taxi took me there quite quickly and I found the shop and dismissed it at once when I saw the blasphemous tee shirts and the weird people in black leather and torn clothes with safety pins and outlandish hairstyles. But I did find other shops with what I really sought. Back on the train, I pictured Netta’s face as she saw my purchases.My journey home to Yorkshire was uneventful but I caught myself smiling at the thought of Leigh when I told him I’d passed the test. He’d be so pleased, and proud of me. I would dash from the train, waving my piece of paper for him to see. It was then, as I pictured the scene in my mind, that I remembered the small package he’d given me just before I set off. I’d slipped it into my handbag as the train came in and hadn’t even opened it.The wrapping was gold with a neatly tied band of golden ribbon. It seemed a shame to spoil it. Inside was a black leather circle in a sort of tube shape, punched with small holes around both open edges. A long black lace was coiled inside it. I held it up and examined it but, for the life of me, couldn’t work out how such a thing would be worn, or where. Puzzled, I rolled it back up and slipped it back into its wrapping so I could quiz Leigh later.I recalled Shirley’s present in my case and decided I might as well read on the journey. The book was called ‘The Joy of Sex’ and had explicit drawings of a couple engaged in sex in all sorts of ways. I blushed just opening it and was very pleased I was alone in my first class compartment. Once I’d started to read, though, I was intrigued and found I just had to know more.Sunshine followed the train beyond Peterborough but then the sky grew increasingly heavy with cloud as we moved north. The rain started about twenty minutes before the train was due at Garsdale. I reluctantly put the book back into my case, having learned a great deal about sex in a very short time. I found myself considering things that previously I wouldn’t have thought worthy of a moment’s attention. My mind still occupied by the new knowledge, I zipped up the case and fastened the straps as the train began to slow down for the station.Not just rain but a great, flashing, crashing thunderstorm lashed against the windows as the wind howled across the open fell tops. I looked out, knowing Leigh would be waiting for me, as we’d arranged, but in the car; there was no shelter at all on the station.The train squealed to a halt before I knew it and I had to dash to struggle out before it set off again. Only as I stepped onto the deserted platform and into the lashing rain, did I remember my light jacket, still folded in my case.But Leigh would be waiting in the dry in the car park just behind the station. I limped off with my case banging against my bare leg, rain soaking straight through the light cotton blouse and short red skirt I’d worn for the hot sunny departure from Colchester.I was soaked literally to the skin before I’d walked the length of the platform. My shower proof jacket would have made no difference to the soaking but it would have spared me the embarrassment of having my breasts on display. For once, I’d decided to go without a bra; because of the heat and, if I’m honest, in order to impress Leigh. Water dripped from my hair, my nose and my chin and made my hand slip on the handle of the case, as the wetness loosened my grip.At least I’d soon be in the car on my way back to Longhouse, dry clothes and a welcome cup of tea.But the car park was deserted. He must have parked at the other side. I felt irritated that he hadn’t thought about me lugging my case all that way in the pouring rain, but he would have some reasonable excuse. I struggled down the steep sloping road and through the arch under the railway line and up to the gravel roadway that divided the platform from the short row of railway houses that were the only habitations for miles. Leigh wasn’t there either. He’d forgotten me.The red phone booth further down the road beckoned. I struggled down a surface that had become a shallow stream of water, soaking my feet. I felt thoroughly deflated, miserable and angry.At least it was dry and sheltered inside the small box. The phone rang for a long time before it was picked up.‘Oh, hello, Sis. He’s on his way. Got sidetracked, I’m afraid.’ Netta’s voice was smug and self-satisfied and I very nearly called her a rude name.

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Related articles Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 31 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 30 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 29 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 28

Wordcounter: An Invaluable Tool to Prevent Repetition.

For comparison, here's the Wordle version of the same chapterDescribed as a tool to spot overused words, Wordcounter is a website that allows you to upload your text and check it for repetition of words. Most writers have favourite words that they use, often without thinking. These are the familiar friends that get us past blocks and barriers. I frequently employ the same word when creating a piece and then change certain instances by replacing the word with synonyms when I do the editing. This makes for richer prose but allows the writer to construct the piece without having to stop the flow in order to come up with a new or different word. The problem is, or can be, that we are often not aware of those words we use frequently; they are so familiar that the brain skips over them when the editing process is under way. This is one of the reasons that professional writers always allow some other, preferably a professional, to edit their work towards the end of the writing process.
The sample I used for this exercise is the next chapter in my romantic thriller, which will appear tomorrow. I thought it might be a useful and practical way of demonstrating the value of the Wordcounter.
In this sample, which is 5,383 words long,  the word ‘just’ appears 25 times. I hadn’t come across this tool at the time of writing and, although the piece has been through 3 different edits by well-read and well-educated people, none spotted that overuse. Fortunately, many of the examples appear in dialogue, where it reflects the everyday usage of the speaker. However, there are other sentences or paragraphs where ‘just’ could easily have been substituted by ‘only’ or by a small change in construction.
Other frequent uses appear in three character names, which are instances where the repeated word will rarely be able to be substituted. By the way, when you use this tool, you’ll notice that the results are returned without capital letters. I’ve inserted capitals to make the demonstration clearer.  And the word ‘car’ is a star in this case simply because the chapter is set in a driving school situation.
So, a very useful tool and one I wish I’d discovered earlier. I’ll certainly use it for everything I write in the future. It has the advantage of being mechanical and therefore indifferent to a writer’s particular preferences. It spots those overused words and points them out with brutal efficiency.
I’d certainly recommend this tool and would like to publicly thank its creator, Steven Morgan Friedman.You’ll see there are a couple of other tools available on the site. I haven’t yet tried these, but will do in the future and let you know what I find. Of course, you could always try them for yourself.
The text shown below is what appears on the website:
Wordcounter ranks the most frequently used words in any given body of text. Use this to see what words you overuse (is everything a "solution" for you?) or maybe just to find some keywords from a document. (New! - See the  Political Vocabulary Analysis  - to try to predict if a document has political leanings!)
Wordcounter is useful for writers, editors, students, and anyone who thinks that they might be speaking redundantly or repetitively -- and it's free! Eventually, I'm going to expand it so that you can upload documents, but not yet.

If you enjoy the Wordcounter, you might enjoy my new web page, Smugopedia - pretend you know better. It's smartly weird and funny.  Top of FormEnter the body of text here (to count & rank the word frequency):


Include Small Words ("the", "it", etc)?  No -- exclude them  Yes -- include them

Use Only Roots (group variations together)?  Yes (beta)  No

How Many Words should I list?  25  50  100  200

Bottom of Form

Here are your results...  Word Frequency just 25 I’d 21 know 20 Shirley 20 it’ 19 you’re 18 sex 17 Tony 17 car 16 very 15 ‘I 15 you’ 15 I’m 15 Faith 14 case 14 don’t 14 go 13 test 13 time 13 back 13 went 13 look 13 down 12 take 12 one 12
http://www.wordcounter.com/

The Emotion Thesaurus, by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi, Reviewed

I promised my wonderful and long-suffering wife that I wouldn’t buy any more book until I’d read everything on our shelves. Now, here I am buying a new thesaurus after reading only 31 of the original 188 titles awaiting my attention. Why? Well a friend (she’s a friend, and she made me break a promise to my wife?) passed on a review of this book. I’m afraid I can’t now find the link to that review, but thanks to whoever it was! It was the review that persuaded me to bend my knee and ask my lovely other half to bend the rules. Being the woman she is, she agreed, of course.So, what’s this reference work like?Well, surprisingly, it’s in the form of a thesaurus: novel, eh? There’s a short introductory section that provides a brief overview of emotion and its place in writing. A short article on avoiding common problems in conveying nonverbal emotion follows. And a short explanatory piece then explains how best to use the thesaurus. After these pieces come the listings. Now, I don’t know about you, but perhaps because I’m a man and therefore emotionally challenged, I’d have found it difficult to come up with a list of more than ten emotions. So it was something of a surprise to discover 75, yes seventy five, listed here. For each of these, the authors have provided a definition of the emotion, a list of physical signals, the internal sensations experienced, the mental responses felt, cues of acute or long-term encounters with and cues of suppressed experience of the emotion. The final piece on each is a short writer’s tip.The book sets out to enable writers to convey emotion in the time-honoured fashion of ‘showing’ rather than the easier and less satisfying ‘telling’. By equipping the writer with a variety of physical signs (body language), visceral experiences (the true and unavoidable internal responses) and degrees of response, the authors help writers to bring deeper feelings to the readers of their works. It succeeds in its stated purpose, by the way.I shall keep this book beside me as I edit in the future, ensuring I create real emotion on the page rather than allow cliché and familiar expression to convey the feelings of my characters.My thanks to the unknown reviewer and my great thanks to Angela and Becca for a super little reference book that I expect to improve my writing for years to come. I think it’s probably redundant for me to say I recommend this book, but, there, I’ve said it anyway.
Related articles The Emotion Thesaurus - an interview with Becca Puglisi Book Review Character Emotion A Must Have for Writers [image error]

Blood Wedding, by Federico Garcia Lorca, Reviewed

Described as tragedy in three acts and seven scenes, Blood Wedding is, of course, a theatrical classic. Now; plays are intended to be seen as they’re performed on stage. But, having had some small experience of playwriting and being a novelist and short story writer by nature, I enjoy the challenge of setting such works within the landscape of my own imagination.This is a work from a culture that’s alien to me and that makes it all the more challenging. It also tests its credentials as a renowned classic. If I can glean the essence of the piece simply by reading it from the page, then it clearly deserves its literary reputation.So, a tragedy: of that there can be no doubt. A sad and sorry tale of love distorted by tribal and cultural considerations that defy comprehension in a modern mind, this story reveals the ultimate stupidity that supports certain primitive codes of honour. Religion is rarely mentioned in the text, but it sweeps through the work like a mudslide invading a village. Passion drives much of the play, directing the characters and forcing them to make decisions that a moment’s quiet contemplation would quickly countermand. Various devices are employed to illuminate the tale. The ubiquitous horse clearly has a significance that largely escaped me during the reading. Though, I suppose, it might be a metaphor for a certain type of power, or it may have the sexual connotations of the dream. I don’t have the advantage of the study notes that would undoubtedly explain the play through the eyes of some scholars, and I prefer my ignorance to the pretentions of such critics.There are large passages of poetry expressed as song and these are relatively repetitious and often obscure. Such references carry more meaning for the intended local audience, no doubt. The simmering sexual tension swells through these passages, evoking those stirrings of passion often experienced by most of us in our youth. That it is here applied to more mature individuals increases the feeling that we are witnessing a primitive society.Whilst there were elements of the text that bypassed my conscious understanding, the play as a whole found its way into my heart and soul so that I felt the emotions and discovered I had empathy with the protagonists. The inevitability of the denouement did nothing to decrease its utterly senseless tragedy. I can only hope that the people for whom this was, presumably, written would leave the theatre in a state that would encourage them to examine the traditions and customs by which they lived. Otherwise, the tragedy is destined to be repeated ad infinitum.Would I attend a stage performance if it were to come my way? Yes.
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The Black Angel, by John Connolly, Reviewed.

I suspect that this is a very good book of its type, but I’ll never know. Sometimes, as a reader, I pick up a book and begin to read and know, very quickly that it isn’t for me. This is, obviously, a personal response.
Other readers may, however, gain value from the reasons why I failed to get past page 33 of a 596 page book. The book is described as ‘dark and powerful yet beautifully written’, by Big Issue , and that, I suspect, would have been my own assessment had I finished it. The writing is, without doubt, good. And it is a very dark piece of work. Which is why I didn’t read it.
For me, this was too dark and gave no glimmer of hope for any lightness. I’ve read and enjoyed horror, thrillers of all sorts, but I need to have some hint of lightness to balance the dark. In The Black Angel, there was no such hint. And the darkness all revolved around brutal mistreatment of women, around trading in women as objects. I find that a difficult subject to deal with but could have continued had there been even a sprinkling of lightness, perhaps a touch of humour here and there. But, when all is darkness, I find the text depressing. And depression is something I can do without.
We all have our own peculiarities: my own is that I can write very dark material, but always add lightness. I can’t read dark material that lacks such a touch. I’ve probably missed out on a very good book. The writing is generally good and I’ve little doubt that the author can tell a tale. But this one wasn’t for me. I hope this is of use to some potential readers, but stress that this is a very personal response.
Related articles John Connolly: 'All you have is language. It's an act of respect' [image error]

Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 31

If you haven’t started reading Breaking Faith, the reviews under the 'My Books' tab may persuade you to give it a try.
To those making the journey, I say, ‘Enjoy the ride.’
I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number.
If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends along.
Chapter 31
Sunday 4th July
‘Just two more questions, please?’‘I can’t be bothered. Anyway, you know the bloody thing off by heart. Give it a rest, Fay.’I’d been preparing all week for the driving course by reading the Highway Code and getting everyone to test my knowledge. Netta was right; I did just about know it by heart. But Leigh had impressed on me the importance of passing the driving test and I didn’t want to let him down.‘Ready?’ Leigh emerged from the studio, where he was trying to complete a rushed job for a small tool catalogue. The photographer they had originally commissioned had failed to produce work of the required quality but the company had already booked the job with the printers. They’d asked Leigh at the last minute and he was desperately trying to complete the shoot by the deadline.Mum had taken me to Dad’s the day before and returned me to Longhouse that morning so I could pack. But Leigh insisted on taking me to the station himself, in spite of his workload. Mum had returned to Dad, grateful for a chance to be alone with him. I hoped she would remember Eric loved him as well.‘Have you finished at last?’‘No.’‘What now, then?’‘I’m sorting Faith.’‘You promised you’d spend the day with me when you’d finished.’ Netta actually stamped her foot. I had to bite my lip to stop myself laughing.‘I haven’t finished. When I have, I’ll keep my promise…’‘Well, what’re you doing, then?’‘Taking Faith to the station, of course.’‘Let her go by taxi. It takes ages to the station and you promised …’‘I’m not sending Faith off on her very first train journey, to a strange place for a week by making her get a taxi to the station. In any case, by the time it got here, she’d miss the train.’‘Why can’t Mum take her?’‘Matilda’s with David. So, are you coming with us, Netta?’‘No, I’m not! I’m going for a fucking walk. And don’t expect me to be here when you get back!’‘You’ll be arrested!’‘I don’t fucking care!’But I heard her climb the stairs to get something suitable for her walk.Leigh picked up my case. ‘Come on, Faith. We’ll be late.’His concentration on my needs over Netta’s wants gave me the most wonderful feeling and I almost kissed him. Then I felt guilty for being happy about it and worried whether she’d be safe on the fells on her own.‘She’ll be fine. Heacham’s out of commission and Merv’s not about to follow her again after what I did to him.’It amazed me that Leigh could read my mind so easily.‘You shouldn’t be so surprised. I know how you think, Faith.’‘You do?’‘Most of the time anyway.’There was something at the back of my mind that I knew was important. I’d been about to say something just before he’d surprised me with his comment. Now I couldn’t fish it out from the anxiety and excitement of my trip.I was to stay at the school where they held the course. Leigh was a bit vague about the arrangements and the promised leaflet hadn’t arrived in time. It was going to be an adventure. There were many things I could have worried about but my only real anxiety was whether I would pass my test.There was no one on the platform of Garsdale station when we arrived. Sunshine baked the concrete as we sought vainly for shade. We sat on the hot wooden slats of a bench together, Leigh burning the backs of his legs exposed by his shorts. I learnt from his mistake and perched on the edge with my mini tucked under my thighs to protect my skin from the fierce heat.Then it came to me. ‘Leigh! I’m sorry, I’ve just remembered, Heacham isn’t locked up any more. They let him out yesterday. I meant to tell you but in the excitement and the rush, I forgot.’‘No matter.’‘But, Netta’s out there on her own...’‘Shit! I’d better go, though the silly bitch doesn’t deserve my concern. Sorry, Faith, see you when you get back. Phone me with your arrival time; I’ve booked both ways but I can’t remember what time you’re due back. I’d better dash.’ And he kissed me very quickly and was off to his car.‘Bye, Leigh. Good luck.’I watched him vanish round the corner at the end of the platform. The station felt so empty as I sat there waiting, alone.‘Sorry, Faith, nearly forgot. Good luck. I know you can do it.’ He reappeared and I stood because he wanted to hug me. He handed me a small package, kissed me again and then stepped back and looked at me. ‘You look bloody gorgeous. Behave yourself.’ He took me in his arms and kissed my mouth. All the way along the platform, as he returned to the car, he kept turning round to look at me. I remained standing until he was out of sight, certain he wanted to see me that way.I sat and looked at the gift-wrapped parcel, smiling at his thoughtfulness and the way he’d kissed me goodbye.Dad had explained a lot of things about men; things I would never have guessed. He wanted to warn me, he said. ‘You’re far too trusting and vulnerable in your naivety.’So, he told me about men and sex and love and vanity and tricks and pride and risks and rivalries. The more I considered, the more it seemed that Leigh was an unusual man; an unusually good sort of man, in spite of his promiscuous nature and his obsession with women’s bodies.‘You’ll discover he’s not at all unusual in that respect, simply more honest and open about it than most men. Even I, your sick and aged father, enjoy feminine beauty. And Matilda’s demonstrated I’m not past it when it comes to sex, after all.’ He grinned at my surprise. ‘It’s all right, Faith, children are universally disgusted at the idea of their parents engaging in and enjoying sex.’‘I’m not disgusted, Dad. I think it’s lovely. I just wonder you have the energy and the opportunity.’He winked and there was more information in that gesture than I could fathom, but I knew he’d said a great deal and would say no more.The train pulled into the station, clanking and hissing. Only one passenger disembarked from the dozen or so carriages and I boarded by the nearest door. My seat was booked but I had no idea where I was supposed to be sitting and many of the seats were empty. Leigh, however, had made it clear I must find the right seat. ‘First class, so it’ll either be right at the front or right at the back, not in the middle.’I made my way to the front of the train as it set off. It was awkward in the corridor with my case and I was getting hotter as I struggled through the airless carriages. At last, I found the right compartment and slid the door open. There was one other person in there, a man a bit older than Leigh. His back to the engine, he was asleep with his head against the window. I checked my ticket against the slip fastened to the back of the opposite seat as Leigh had advised and then tried to put my case onto the luggage rack. It was too heavy and eventually I gave up and plonked it on the seat beside me.I noticed a paperback book on the floor at the man’s feet and bent to pick it up. It was a copy of a novel I’d heard Netta talk about; something called ‘Fear of Flying’ by Erika Yong. I stood, intending to put the book near the back of the seat beside him. The train was travelling very fast and swaying quite a lot and I had to place my feet apart to keep upright. I leant forward to place the book beside him and, as the train braked fiercely, I was thrown off balance. To my horror, I was pitched across his lap with my knees on the seat, either side of his legs. I had to stretch my arms out in front to stop my head hitting his. The sudden jolt woke him at once, as I was floundering and trying to move away and get back to my seat. He opened his eyes to find me almost astride him with my chest lifting from his face. I suppose it must’ve looked quite funny but I felt terribly embarrassed.‘Great idea! But you might’ve woken me first.’‘I’m sorry, the train...’ I tried to pull myself away but he grasped my hips and urged me down onto his lap.‘No need to apologize, sweetie. Girlies throw themselves at me all the time. Must be my animal magnetism.’I wrenched myself free and sat down, blushing and flushed with rage. ‘I wasn’t trying to do anything to you! I’m not in the least interested in you. The train jerked and made me overbalance, that’s all. I was trying to put your book back. It’d fallen on the floor, if you must know.’He studied my body without a word for a while. ‘Read it, have you? Is that what gave you the idea? Shouldn’t start something if you’re not going to finish it, you know.’‘I haven’t read it and I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’He stared into my eyes and I felt it was important for me to stare back until he looked away. At last, he did but his eyes wandered down my body, stopping at my breasts and my pubic area. I folded my arms, crossed my legs and looked out of the window.‘Suit yourself, sweetie. But you’re missing out on a really good time. I’m always able to find that little button that sends you girlies wild; clit tickling’s a speciality of mine. You won’t be left wanting and we’re quite alone, you know.’I decided to say nothing.He leant forward and put his clammy hand on the skin of my knee, clasped it and started to massage it. ‘Come on, sweetie, it’s hot and so are we. Let’s have a little f..f..f..fun, shall we?’I kicked his hand away, hard.‘Sorry.’ He sat back and sulked. ‘My mistake. Don’t look like a lesbian.’I knew he intended it as an insult, but I wasn’t sure enough of what he meant to argue. I continued to stare out of the window and ignore him.‘Dildo or mutual tongues your thing?’I had only a vague idea of what he meant but I was sure he was being personal and rude so I just refused to acknowledge his presence.‘Or maybe the odd root vegetable? A candle? Banana? Or just fingers? I’m only curious. We men don’t get to know what you girlies get up to together.’I remained silent. And at last, it worked. My refusal to answer or even acknowledge him seemed to make him lose interest.‘Frigid, then. Shame with those tits and thighs.’He said no more after that. When the ticket inspector came, he lifted my case onto the luggage rack for me after he clipped my ticket. He looked at the man on the other seat. ‘If this gentleman can’t help you take it down when we get to Kings Cross, you just wait here, my dear, I’ll come along and give you a hand.’‘Thank you.’‘Not your case I want to take down, though, is it sweetie?’The ticket inspector reappeared almost at once and stared hard at the man. He smiled at me. ‘If you need me at all, Miss, I’m just at the end of the carriage, within easy calling distance.’‘Thank you, that’s very kind of you.’‘Pleasure.’He gave me a lovely smile, glared at the man, and left. The man just shrugged and turned his stare out of the window.Leigh had said the food on the train would be expensive and might not be very good. I was hungry, however, so I made my way to the buffet car and bought a cheese sandwich and a can of coke. The drink was cold, the sandwich about as tasty as its wrapper.When I returned to the compartment, the man had gone. Just as I was about to sit, I noticed something off-white on the seat. Fresh chewing gum was stuck there. I used a tissue to remove it and dropped it into the small bin. It would have ruined my black skirt, if I’d sat on it and I wondered at his carelessness.The train journey seemed to go on interminably and I fell asleep to the sound of the wheels on the rails. When I woke, he was back and watching me with a look like Mervyn’s. I straightened my skirt and made sure my blouse was buttoned.Outside, houses, factories and office buildings had replaced hills and fields. Everything looked grimy and the air coming through the window seemed stale and used. Other trains crashed past at speed or crawled along beside ours or over it on raised lines. We entered dark smelly tunnels where the sound of the train hammered back through the open window, deafening and ugly. The sunlight was blinding as the train emerged. And still the man looked at my body. I ignored him.At last, we approached the station and drew slowly to a halt. There were people waiting on the platform and others going past along the corridor, carrying their cases. I stood to get my case and suddenly he was behind me, his body so close to mine I could feel his hardness pressing against me. He thrust his arms under mine, brushing the sides of my breasts with his palms as I reached up for my case.‘Such a shame. Lovely tits, great arse. All that way we could’ve done sweet things to each other.’ He lifted my case down and put it on the seat as the train shuddered to a halt.He rocked and swayed against me. I turned to make him move away but he stayed close and I felt frightened for the first time. I glared at him and he took a step back and held up his hands. ‘Why did you put chewing gum on my seat?’‘I … stuck up little tart. Bloody tease, you are. Advertising it but not putting out. Shouldn’t display what’s not available.’ And he departed, leaving me confused by his accusation.I was struggling from the doorway when the ticket inspector arrived to help. ‘Glad he decided to do the gentlemanly thing after all.’ He took my case and carried it onto the platform for me.‘Thank you for being so kind.’‘Pretty girl like you; some men don’t know how to treat a woman like a lady. Pleasure to be of service, Miss.’I remembered the woman in the ladies’ toilet and took some change out of my purse.‘Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss. Pleasure to help a pretty woman.’ He touched his cap and got back on the train, leaving me flushed with pleasure. I set off in the direction everyone else was moving.The underground was a blur of noise, confusion and smell. I asked a dozen unhelpful people before an elderly lady put me on the right tracks for Liverpool Street. Once there, the train was easy to find, as was my seat in another first class compartment, empty this time.A man met me at Colchester station with one of the school’s cars. He was a little older than I. Polite and helpful, he put my case in the boot, opened the car door for me and commented on the heat. ‘Good journey?’‘My first on a train. I’m not sure whether it was good or bad, to be honest. But I’m here, anyway.’He seemed a bit surprised and then remembered to introduce himself, again, and shook my hand. ‘Do I call you Miss Heacham or Faith?’‘Faith, I think, Simon. Heacham’s a rapist so I don’t want to be known by his name.’He seemed even more surprised and said nothing as we drove out of Colchester. I wound down the window and let the wind cool me. The air seemed fresher after London and the train. ‘Is it far?’‘Ten miles or so. You’ll be sharing with one of the other young ladies, will that be okay?’‘I expect so. It’s not a double bed is it?’‘Oh, no! Singles. I know it’s the seventies but, well, you know, we do draw the line somewhere.’‘Good. I’d hate to have a stranger in bed. Imagine all that skin touching as you turned over in the night. Ugh.’He was silent again and I got the impression I’d shocked him.The town quickly gave way to soft rolling countryside with a few very low hills and gentle inclines. Lots of trees lined the narrow winding road but I saw few sheep and not many cattle. Most of the fields seemed to be full of wheat and barley, with an occasional acid yellow patch of a crop I hadn’t seen before.‘What’s that yellow stuff?’‘Pretty isn’t it? Rape.’ He coughed. ‘Odd name for a plant.’‘I think it’s horrible. Is that what I can smell?’‘Pungent, isn’t it? But I do like the brightness.’‘I prefer meadow flowers and the golden yellow of buttercups.’‘A poet, eh?’I assumed he was mocking me. ‘Is the course difficult?’‘Depends how much practice you’ve had.’‘None.’‘Never driven at all?’‘Never even been inside a car until April this year.’‘You’re having me on.’‘I’m not!’‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to ... you’re serious? You are! Well, good luck, Faith. I hope you’re a quick learner.’We drove on in silence again for a while.‘Was there only me to be picked up?’‘Most of the others are coming on later trains or being driven to the school by friends or relations. You’ve travelled the furthest. You’re our first pupil from Yorkshire, Faith.’ He made me feel as if I was special to them in some way.We passed through flat green countryside, parched by the hot sun and lack of rain and I found myself homesick already for the fells and open heights, the melancholy warbling of curlews, the gentle moaning of sheep.Suddenly he turned off the road into a field, along a narrow concrete track. There were no buildings in sight and I wondered where we were heading as the track opened onto a wide concrete strip, which seemed to vanish into the haze both left and right.‘Up to you, Faith, and I shouldn’t really do this, but if you’ve never been behind the wheel before, now’s your chance for a quick trial.’‘Am I allowed to drive here?’‘Got your provisional licence with you?’I nodded.‘It’s an old airfield. We use it for the early lessons. Want a go?’It was a disaster. I crunched the gears, stalled the engine, couldn’t drive in a straight line. I was nearly in tears after that first half hour.‘Excellent. You’ve the makings of a good driver. Natural ability.’I stared at him in disbelief.‘I’m serious. I’d be very surprised if you didn’t do very well indeed on this course. Your co-ordination’s good, your spatial awareness is exceptional for a woman; no sexual sleight intended, only women don’t perceive in the same way as men, you know. Your reactions are spot on. I think we’d be expecting a bit much of you to actually pass your test, of course, but you’ll be ready after a few more lessons when you’ve finished here.’‘Oh, I have to pass. My boss is paying for me.’‘I’m not surprised, lucky bugger.’I let that pass. He got back behind the wheel and drove us off the airfield. ‘Not a word, please, Faith. I really shouldn’t have done that.’‘Why did you?’He turned and looked at me quizzically. ‘I…look, I hope you won’t get me wrong, but you’re very pretty and I was just trying to help. Okay?’‘Thank you. Would you have helped me if I wasn’t pretty?’‘I… Christ, Faith. What a question.’‘Well, would you?’‘Probably not.’‘I see.’‘Look, I don’t expect you to …well, you know.’‘Don’t expect me to what?’‘Come on; girl like you, you must get men trying it on all the time.’The phrase was new to me but I suddenly grasped what the conversation was all about. ‘Oh, you mean sex. I see. Well, I won’t be letting you have sex with me, if that’s what you were expecting.’‘Are you always so… so direct?’‘Leigh says I’m too honest for my own good. So does Mum.’‘Leigh’s your boyfriend?’‘Good Heavens, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.’‘And I always thought Yorkshiremen were supposed to know a good thing when they saw it.’‘It’s not that they don’t try. I’m just not interested in anyone but Leigh.’‘But he’s not interested in you?’‘Not as long as my sister’s giving him all the sex he wants. But, in time, he’ll probably get fed up of her. That’s what Ma says, anyway. And Old Hodge says Leigh doesn’t know what he’s missing and one day he’ll wake up and discover me. I love him, so I can wait.’‘God, if he’s not interested in you, what’s your sister like?’‘You really shouldn’t blaspheme, you know. Netta’s very beautiful and she’s had sex with so many men she knows how to please them. That’s what Mum and Leigh say, anyway. She certainly knows what to do to make a penis stand erect, by all accounts. And Leigh says her vagina’s always moist and ready. I think sex is for marriage, though, don’t you?’He turned to look at me, his eyes wide with wonder and then he suddenly remembered he was driving and had to turn the steering wheel quickly to avoid hitting a tree.‘Far out.’ He was silent for the rest of the journey but he kept turning to glance at me as if I was some sort of creature he’d never seen before. I spent the time looking at the countryside.The school was in a large country house with beautiful gardens and an outdoor swimming pool, tennis courts and something that turned out to be a croquet lawn.My roommate, seven years my senior, spread jars and bottles over the surface of the dressing table and was surprised I had no make up with me. ‘Got to look your best for the examiner, you know. Short skirt, bit of cleavage, winning smile, you can’t fail.’‘You don’t think they test you on your driving, then?’Shirley’s smile was condescending. ‘Really are from the sticks, dear, aren’t you? No man can resist a sexy woman, unless he’s queer, of course. Pushovers, the lot of them.’Dress was informal and I was sticky after travelling all day. I showered before changing into a light summery dress. She watched me curiously as I left the bathroom and brushed my hair before I slipped my clothes on.‘I’d have bet money on you being shy, but you don’t mind wandering about in the nuddy, do you?’‘Nuddy?’‘You know, without your clothes.’‘Oh. Should I? Is it wrong? I mean, there are no men to see, are there?’‘Interesting. Come on then, my belly thinks my throat’s been cut.’‘Am I all right wearing this?’‘Up to you, dear. If I had boobs and a bum like yours, I’d wear as little as I could get away with. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I say.’There were a dozen of us on the course. Four women and eight men. Most were between twenty and thirty but a couple of the men were older. We sat at a large table with the instructors, again more men than women.After Ma’s cooking, the food seemed no more than okay to me. It certainly wasn’t as wonderful as Shirley seemed to think. Wine and beer were served in the evenings, but no alcohol was available during the day.They issued us with the Highway Code and I said nothing about my well-thumbed copy lying in my bag. We were given a programme for the following day and then, full of food and wine, they gave us a quick written quiz to test what we already knew about the rules of driving.‘The winner, with not a single question wrong, is… Faith! Well done, Faith.’I had to walk up and collect a prize; a pair of sunglasses for driving. I’d never won anything before, never even entered any sort of contest, and it felt wonderful to collect my prize and gain the praise and respect of the tutors.‘There’s your challenge, then. See who can beat Faith in the quiz on Thursday night, the night before you’ll all be taking your tests!’We were told it would be an early and challenging start to the day; early to bed was the recommendation.‘Do you always do as you’re told, Faith?’ Shirley came up at last, when I was already in bed and falling asleep.I just nodded, hoping she’d go to bed herself and let me sleep. I was tired and wanted to be fresh for the morning.‘Mind if I smoke?’‘If you must.’‘God! Don’t you have any vices?’ She lit up a pale pink cigarette, opened the window, and puffed out a long stream of slightly perfumed smoke.‘Apparently, my biggest vice is that I tell the truth.’‘Dangerous. No, I mean, really?’I obviously wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep just yet. I sat up in bed and shrugged. She stared at me and then turned away.‘Sleep starkers, too?’‘Of course.’‘You one of that nuddy lot?’‘I don’t think so. I don’t know what you mean by nuddy lot.’‘Christ, Faith. Nudists, naturists, I think they are.’‘Oh. No, I’m not. Why would anyone wear clothes in bed in this heat?’‘Well, I mean, I …yeah, good question. Why would you, especially, as you say, in hot weather like this? To hell with it. I think I’ll join you.’For an awful moment, I thought she was actually going to get into bed with me but she just meant she would also sleep naked.I yawned. ‘I’m very tired.’‘Sorry, Faith, forgot you’ve been travelling all day. Tell you what, though, you’ve made a killing down there with the boys. They’re drawing lots to decide who gets to teach you.’‘Why?’‘Come off it, Faith, we’re girls together. No need to play the coy one with me…Christ! You really don’t know, do you?’ She started to get undressed as she spoke, flicking ash from her cigarette all over the floor and leaving her clothes where they fell.‘Don’t know what?’‘You’ll be telling me next you’re a virgin.’She seemed to feel awkward, naked, so I looked away.‘I wasn’t actually planning on telling you, Shirley. Does it matter?’She came to stand beside my bed. ‘Look at me, Faith.’I turned.‘What do you see?’I shrugged. ‘A pretty young woman. What am I supposed to see?’She smiled at that. ‘Am I pretty?’‘I think so. Leigh would say you could afford to lose a bit of weight and firm your muscles a bit, but he’s a man, and a photographer at that.’‘Leigh. Would he, now?’‘Oh, he likes his women perfect. I take no notice of him, to tell you the truth. His ideals are beyond the realms of normal, natural women. I think my younger sister, Netta, gets about as close as is possible. He certainly takes a lot of photographs of her, anyway.’‘Screws her, as well, does he?’‘All the time. It amazes me where they find the energy. But then Leigh likes his women. On his birthday, a few weeks ago, he had sex with Abby, Netta, Zoë and my Mother. I wish he’d just settle down a bit and make up his mind what he wants.’She looked at me in disbelief. ‘This guy you work for is shagging half the neighbourhood and you work for him but you’re still a virgin? What sort of deal is that?’I shrugged. ‘I’m ever so tired, Shirley. Do you mind if we go to sleep now?’‘Sleep. She wants to go to sleep just after she tells me she works for a major stud who has let her stay a virgin. Christ, Faith, if he hasn’t shagged you and you’re that bloody sexy, what are these other women like? They must be bloody amazing.’‘Well, Leigh obviously likes them and they seem to like him. No one ever complains anyway. But I think it’s something you should save until you’re married, don’t you?’‘Faith, you’re something else. Just one more question. Is this stud of yours an attractive guy? I mean what does he look like?’I sighed and yawned and then pictured Leigh so I could describe him, and found myself smiling with affection at the picture. ‘He’s tall, over six foot. Shoulder length dark brown hair that’s slightly wavy. The most amazing dark brown eyes that just look at you as if you’re the only person in the room. He has a full beard, which he keeps short and away from his lips, which he kisses with in a way that makes me tingle all over. He’s got lovely white even teeth and he’s well built without being too muscular, you know? His penis is a bit bigger than average but Mum says it’s not huge and she and Netta both say he knows how to use it. I’ve never seen it erect, of course, but it’s bigger when it’s flaccid than Mervyn’s is when his is erect. Mind you, he’s always playing with his, so I’ve never seen his flaccid. Of course, Mervyn only needs a picture of a woman to make his go stiff but Leigh says it takes more than that to get him excited. He’s with naked women so much, often without his own clothes, I suppose it’s a good job he isn’t that easily aroused. He’s got the most amazing bottom; I just want to put my hands on it and hold him close to me all the time. Oh, I’m sorry. Forget I said that.’She stared at me in utter disbelief for a few moments. ‘Jesus, Faith! You’re obviously in love with this hunk but you haven’t had sex with him? But you’re clearly not a lesbian.’‘I don’t think I am. A man on the train said I was. What is it?’‘You really don’t know, do you?’I shook my head. It seemed this could be important.‘Do you fancy other women?’I thought about it. I knew what she meant by the term but I had no personal experience of the feeling she meant. ‘Am I right in thinking you’re talking about sexual attraction, Shirley?’‘You can’t be for real. Christ! You are though, aren’t you? Yes, I mean sexual attraction.’‘No. I only feel that for Leigh.’‘So. You work for him. You love him. He’s gorgeous. You want to have sex with him. But you never have. Why?’‘We’re not married.’She stood there with her mouth open and gaped at me. Then she went to her bed, shaking her head in what seemed like utter confusion. ‘I believe you, Faith. I don’t know why, but I do. By all means, sleep. Don’t worry about me lying here panting as I fantasize about this Leigh guy.’‘Good night.’ I pulled the cover over me.‘Jesus! Far out!’Her shock amused as much as it puzzled me but I was tired and sank slowly into peaceful sleep with the sound of her soft gasping fading into the background.

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If you're impatient for the next chapter, you can buy the book in paperback or ebook format for whatever ereader you use, just click on the cover picture or visit ‘My Books’. If you do, I’d appreciate a review, posted wherever possible - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.
Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)Join my professional connections on LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/pub/stuart-aken/22/1b6/aaa
Related articles Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 30 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 29 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 28 Read This Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 27 [image error]

Seeking Readers’ Views on Matters of Fantasy.

Those of you who’ve followed this blog for any time will know I’m in the process of completing an epic fantasy trilogy. I’ve written the first 2 volumes and edited book one to the point where it’s ready for publication. Book 2 is currently undergoing the penultimate edit and book 3 is yet to be written, though I know where it’s heading, more or less.
So, how can you help?
Well, I’m seeking the opinions of readers on various aspects of the fantasy genre:
My book is an adult tale, containing references and descriptions unsuitable for those under 15 years of age. Would that concern you? (there’s no erotic content, but there are sexual references).
The major theme of the whole work is hypocrisy in organised religion, though this is very definitely thematic and doesn’t push the story, which is largely character driven, with the actions of those characters resulting in the drama and adventure of the tale.  Clearly, I’m not about to alter the theme, but I’d like to know if the very fact of it would deter you from sampling the book.
Book 1 is 216,000 words, or around 680 pages of a standard paperback. The other two volumes will be around the same length. Assuming the story and characters carry this length, as a reader, does this excite, inspire, worry or inhibit you?
Clearly, publication of such a tome is likely to be difficult to sell to a traditional publishing house. Would you be likely to try such a book as, A, a paperback, B, an ebook, C, both of these, D, neither, if self-published?
What sort of price would you expect to pay for such a work?
The story needs maps to allow the reader to enjoy the location of the fantasy. I’ve drawn the main map on a sheet of A1 (approx. 60x80 cms) and had it scanned electronically so I can produce it both in full and in parts to suit the story as it ranges over the wide territory imagined. How would you feel about the inclusion of such maps in an ebook? And, would you like a ‘fold-out’ map in a paper book, if possible?
I’ve decided not to publish volume 1 until volume 2 is ready for publication and volume 3 is already underway. Would that decision help you decide whether or not to sample the first volume? I know it’s not uncommon for fantasy writers to start a trilogy and then abandon it before it’s finished. I want to avoid falling into that trap and, by taking this action, wish to assure my readers that I’ll give them the full tale.
Later in the process, I intend releasing short tasters so that readers can have an idea of the quality of the writing and some clues regarding characters, theme and storyline. Would you welcome such samples?
That’s it for the moment. Later on, I’ll explain some of the techniques used in the writing, introduce some of the major characters and give clues about the imagined land I’ve used as a setting. Watch this space.
Thank you for your help in this process.
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The Best After-Dinner Stories, by Tim Heald, Reviewed.

A book better presented than compiled, Tim Heald’s The Best After-Dinner Stories is a special edition available through the Folio Society (£19.95). As is often the case with such books, the text is illustrated, in this case by Paul Cox, who does an admirable if somewhat cosy job of work with the material offered.
There’s an underlying tone to the collection and the introductory passages which will undoubtedly appeal to those of a clubbish or socially elevated nature. I found it complacent, self-satisfied and smug and not at all attractive. In fact, I was tempted to stop reading after a short while because of this slightly snobbish and superior tone. I’m glad I didn’t.
In the collection, Tim Heald introduces readers to such luminaries as Chaucer, Shakespeare, Churchill, Samuel Johnson, Horace Walpole and Her Majesty the Queen, amongst others. A few less elevated entertainers jostle for space within the pages, including Joyce Grenfell, Eric Idle, Gyles Brandreth, John Mortimer and Joanna Trollope, again, amongst others.
Of course, the very title of the book should have warned me of the probable approach: after dinner stories are, after all, mainly the province of establishment organisations such as Oxbridge, Gentleman’s clubs and various scholarly or exclusive societies. It is telling that the book was published by the Folio Society, a book club specialising in high end quality book production, where all volumes are hardbacks and most editions are presented in slip cases specially designed for the organisation. You’ll find it available on Amazon, but only in the form of the original publication; sometimes offered as ‘new’, when it is clear that it’s a book passed on to the seller by a society member.
Apart from the social snobbishness that drives the text, there’s an intellectual snobbishness that presents certain references, likely to be familiar only to scholars, as if these were common knowledge amongst common readers.
So, why did I continue to read? Well, the simple fact is that some of the stories presented were very amusing. Some. There was a good deal of comedy I could enjoy, though there was as much that left me cold due to its class basis. I skipped large portions, bored by the pretentions of the narrator. But I also learned the true sources for a number of lengthy jokes that have become popular through re-telling and clearly attributed to the wrong creative minds by that reprocessing.
I obtained the book as a returning member of the Folio Society, an organisation that attracts those of us who love real books. It was part of a free introductory package. I’m glad I didn’t pay for it but also glad I stuck it out to the end. Would I recommend it? That depends on the reader, really. The old-fashioned, club members, Oxbridge dons and graduates, and those who consider themselves upper-middle or upper class would undoubtedly enjoy a number of the ‘in’ jokes. For the rest of us less elevated readers, the pleasures are less obvious. If you enjoyed Punch, you’re likely to find something to amuse you here.
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Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 30

If you’re new to this blog, or haven’t started reading Breaking Faith, perhaps the reviews under the 'My Books' tab may persuade you to give it a try.
To those continuing the ride, I say, ‘Enjoy the journey.’
I posted Chapter 1 on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have featured here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search by chapter number.
If you missed the start, you’ll find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends along.
Chapter 30
Sunday 6th June
Netta healed quickly and, ultimately, completely. But she grew more possessive over the days of her recovery and, whilst she tolerated Matilda deputizing in her absence, she made it clear she’d object to any other woman, especially Faith, sharing my bed. But I was eager to have her back, the imposed separation having increased my passion for her. So I was grateful when Matilda offered to drive Faith to David’s on Saturday, allowing me more time with Netta.‘Be gentle; I’d like a nice slow screw.’ She’d remained upstairs when they left and met me on the landing as I returned to see if she needed anything.Slowly turning on the spot for me, she displayed the broken skin now healed, leaving bruising in multihued bars and bands across her body. I took her hand and led her to my bed, eased her gently down and began by kissing her from toe to head, back and front.She forsook her sick bed and returned to my room. Once again, she took to wandering the house wearing a shirt. Over those days, I watched the colours fade, saw the yellows, greens, blues and reds merge and melt into her normal honey colour. She emerged from her beating as physically perfect as if it had never happened and I became again obsessed with her beauty.I barely noticed Faith, even after I learned the origins and reasons for the picture I’d removed from Merv’s bedroom wall. One part of my mind couldn’t accept that she’d done that for me but the image of Netta kept getting in the way and, though I thanked her, I failed to express the amazement and admiration I actually felt for what she’d done.I was only vaguely aware of her growing attachment to David. Even Zizi’s birthday would have passed me by had not Faith reminded me in time for me to buy and post her a present. On the day, she was again my diary and I called and made the right sounds, but my heart wasn’t in it and Zizi could tell.Each weekend, Faith was at her father’s and each time I took her, Netta grew more jealous of my time away, sulking. When the mood took her, she would inexplicably run off into the hills alone for hours, risking her well-being and, perversely, depriving us both of the opportunity for unbridled sex.By coincidence, a partial, future solution to this problem presented itself when I took Faith one Friday night in mid June and discovered it was Eric’s seventy-ninth birthday. That recalled Faith’s approaching birthday and David and I managed a quiet word about how we might mark it. I was delighted by his generosity and happy to make my contribution.So it was that the following week saw me walking Faith and Netta to the local pub in the early evening. It was a good walk; two miles or so, over fields high with meadow grass and wild flowers awaiting the first silage cut. I pictured the pair of them, together and singly, as they waltzed through the colours. Netta was wearing the minimal needed for decency; a tight yellow muslin boob tube that shaded with the underlying colour of her nipples and areolae and a sky-blue micro skirt that hugged her lovely bum so closely it was a second skin. Faith was quietly pretty in the cotton print dress I’d bought her in York. She hadn’t worn it off the shoulder since that night and I wished she would.‘I want you to learn to drive, Faith.’ I’d brought the first drinks to the table outside and was sitting next to Netta, my hand stroking her thigh.‘Why?’It was what I’d expected. ‘Because I want you to be able to visit David under your own steam and I’d like you to do the local deliveries for me.’She could accept that. ‘I’ll book some lessons, then.’‘No need. I’ve already booked you a week at one of those new intensive driving schools. You stay at the school and have lessons and take your test all in the space of a week. It’s hard work but I’ve no doubt you can do it.’‘I want to learn!’‘Faith’s my Girl Friday and my printer; I’ve a good business need for her to drive, Netta. How could I justify paying for driving lessons for you to the tax man?’‘I’m your lover, do it for me as a present.’‘Maybe. But not just now. One at a time, I think, don’t you?’‘Meanie!’‘I’ll be free to bed you every weekend, okay?’ I left it at that and turned to Faith. ‘How’s that sound?’‘Where do I have to go?’‘Sorry, there’s nowhere local. It’ll have to be down south. Essex. Place near Colchester.’‘Is that very far?’‘Far enough. Train to King’s Cross, underground to Liverpool Street and another train to Colchester. They’ll pick you up and take you to the school; it’s near an old disused airfield, apparently, that they use for the initial lessons. Nice country house and all food provided.’‘When?’It was typical of Faith to be concerned about practicalities. ‘Next Sunday. I’ve booked your seat and got your ticket. Hope you don’t mind.’‘If it’s for the job, I can’t complain. Any case, it’ll be useful being able to drive. I might even save up and buy myself a little car. I fancy one of those Minis; a red one with a white roof.’‘Excellent. I knew you’d be pleased.’‘Will I be able to see Dad on the Saturday before I go?’‘Of course.’‘What about me?’‘What about you, Netta?’‘What am I going to do for company whilst she’s away and you’re out at work?’‘Not just out at work but in the darkroom as well. Now I don’t have a printer, other than Faith, I have to spend time in there myself. Shame I lost such a good printer in Merv. Such a pity he had to spoil things by making that unprovoked attack on you, Netta, my love.’I was curious to know whether she would admit her duplicity in the light of what Ma, Old Hodge and Merv himself had told me about the incident.‘Yeah, shame. Perhaps you ought to take him back so he can actually rape me this time?’Faith was puzzled by my tone and in sympathy with Netta’s response. I knew I was on a loser and Netta knew I had no proof to support my suspicions. ‘Of course, I don’t want the cretin back, Netta, whatever gave you that idea?’Faith was relieved but I’d stung Netta and she was determined to have a go even though she knew I suspected her. ‘You seem to doubt his attack was unprovoked, that’s all.’‘Do I? Sorry, that’s not the impression I’m trying to convey.’‘What impression are you trying to convey?‘I should’ve thought that was obvious, my sweet. If I were convinced he’d been led on or tricked into trying it on, I’d be forced to look at the situation anew. Under those circumstances, I’d have to get rid of the real guilty party. But, since we all know exactly what happened, there’s no point in discussing it, is there?’Netta’s silence and the fleeting fear that crossed her face were enough to convince me she was less than innocent. It was a measure of my obsession for her that I allowed the probable injustice to remain. But I again revised my feelings for her, liking her less than I had and conscious that my fascination with her body was in danger of making a fool of me.‘Now, Faith, I know you’ll do your best on this driving course, but I want you to know it’s costing me a small fortune, so no messing about, okay?’‘Since when did Faith mess about?’ Netta was pleased to be off the hook and eager to keep the conversation away from what was a worrying subject for her.‘You’ll be away from home for a whole week, Faith, amongst strangers who may well try to lead you astray. I just want to make sure you understand it’s important you concentrate on the job in hand.’‘And you don’t want some good looking driving instructor poking about in there before you’ve had the chance.’ Netta had hit the point.I had to defend myself, from both of them. ‘Faith knows how I feel about her and she knows I don’t have that sort of design on her.’‘Why not?’ Faith’s question startled me.‘In fact, I’ve been meaning to ask you, Leigh, why you didn’t take me back to Longhouse and have sex with me after our trip to York. I was willing enough.’Netta, surprised at this news, turned away from her sister and waited for my response.‘You’d had a lot to drink, Faith. Gentlemen don’t take advantage of women who aren’t in control, that’s all.’‘So it wasn’t because I’m not sexually attractive to you?’‘Absolutely not. I think you’re a very sexy young woman.’‘But you’re not going to have sex with me?’The line of questioning was now agitating Netta and I smiled at both of them in turn, mollifying Netta and attempting to reassure Faith.‘Faith, I’d love to have you in my bed. But you wouldn’t come unless I swore to be exclusively yours. Something I’m not ready to do. In fact, I doubt you’d entertain the idea unless we were actually married.’Netta relaxed.Faith looked at me so directly I was forced to ask. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’‘Perhaps. For the moment.’‘Make that moment last, Sis. I’m not going to share him with you.’‘I wouldn’t share him, Netta. Leigh’s right about that. If I ever make love with him, it’ll be as his only lover. I’ve no intention of being part of his harem.’‘Cow.’But Faith’s comment hadn’t nettled her; there was no venom in her reply.‘Anybody ready for another drink?’ Faith released the lace, holding the top of her dress in a soft scoop around her neck, and let it fall round her shoulders before she stood and retied the knot.I thought how very lovely she looked with her shoulders bare and that confident smile on her pretty face. It struck me it was the first time she’d offered to buy a round of drinks. Faith was growing up before my eyes and becoming more attractive with each new phase of development.Netta, jealous of my attention, had to make a comment to make her sister feel ill at ease. ‘Letting them swing free at last, Sis? Not worried the men might ogle your nipples anymore, then?’Faith stood straight and actually thrust her breasts against the fabric, displaying exactly as Netta had accused. ‘Like you’re always saying, Sis. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.’ And she stared across the yard to the open door of the pub.Not to be outdone by her sister, Netta moved my hand from her thigh and urged my fingers under her brief skirt. ‘I’ll have a Black Velvet, sis. And I know what Leigh wants. But, then, I always know what Leigh wants, don’t I?’She did. Or, at least, she thought she did. I was no longer sure as I watched Faith move with naturally sensuous grace across to the bar.

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If you're impatient for the next chapter, you can buy the book in paperback or ebook format for whatever ereader you use, just click on the cover picture or visit ‘My Books’. If you do, I’d appreciate a review, posted wherever possible - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.
Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenMy website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.ukRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenCome Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)         
Related articles Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 29 Read my Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 28 Read This Romantic Thriller, Free: Chapter 27 Read Breaking Faith, Free: Chapter 26 [image error]