A Novel Obsession

By Jeff Joseph

Abby has met the man of her dreams; too bad he lives in her fantasies! Nightly, she pulls out his picture and dreams of an erotic life with him, just like many other women do as his popularity and romantic image grows. Meanwhile, in the small town where Abby lives, she becomes the object of rivalry between several jealous and obsessive suitors, compounded by the interference of well-meaning friends and family.

Daniel Sheppard is a best-selling author who has trouble living out the romantic novels he writes. As he becomes more and more famous, he yearns for a love of his own to fill the void in his life. By chance, he discovers that he and Abby may be kindred spirits, but he is unable to contact her.

Will Abby and Daniel find each other across the miles and beyond the barrier of small town gossip? Or, will they remain each other’s Novel Obsession?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Joseph
• Release date: Dec 2, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301440849

Jeff Joseph

Jeff Joseph is a motion picture archivist and was formerly one of the best-known film dealers in the United States. Jeff and his wife Lauren were the owners of SabuCat Productions. He is currently working with the UCLA Film and TV Archive in restoring the Hal Roach/Laurel and Hardy library.

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A Novel Obsession

By Jeff Joseph

A Novel Obsession

By Jeff Joseph

Copyright 2012 by Jeff Joseph All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2012

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Prologue

* * * * * * * *

As their faces slowly drew closer together, driven by forces that neither had ever encountered in their lifetimes, their eyes locked in a trance so intense that the rest of the world completely vanished around them. They were in a fourth dimension, completely mesmerized. They didn’t blink, as the spell was too strong, too consuming, and too moving. Unconscious tremors had begun. Suddenly their undeniable desires of the flesh became trivial; they no longer registered, only the overwhelming desire to be close, as close as humanly possible, even closer. Unconscious tremors continued. They inhaled the essence of one another as their scents mingled and became one, became them; they were quickly ceasing to be separate beings. Unconscious tremors were working their way to the surface. Finally and mercifully, their lips met. It wasn’t a kiss, but a physical joining of souls, the completion of a union ordained by a higher order. Tremors were becoming more conscious.

Then without warning, the tremors suddenly erupted into pure, unadulterated passion, an explosion of love that had no boundaries. She involuntarily leapt into his powerful arms, wrapping her legs around his hips pulling her center to his. In that same motion, her form-fitting skirt rose to her waist as if it had a mind of its own and her four-inch stiletto heels flew from her feet in different directions across the room. His muscular body responded to the challenge unconsciously by accepting the urgent, rhythmic contractions of her thighs, answering them with powerful thrusts of his own as he cradled her firm, round bottom in both of his hands, lifting upward, and squeezing her cheeks frantically at the same time. They crashed up against the nearby wall, neither aware of the collision. He turned and drove her into it over and over with such force, pictures fell from their perches, crashing to the floor without either of them being aware of it, and if they had been, they wouldn’t have cared. The inevitable eruption was growing more intense. Their mouths hungrily pursued one another as they tried to consume each other in bruising fashion, lips sucking wildly, tongues thrashing and probing deeper and deeper, all generating searing, wet, passion. Despite his athleticism, he reached a point where he couldn’t hold her up any longer, and he needed to create enough space between them to tear open her blouse. She would never wear that blouse again. He pushed her off. She had a fierce look of determination upon her face that said she would not be denied. He grabbed silk in each of his large, strong hands and, with one effortless pull, sent buttons flying in every direction. The strength with which he did this sent her into an uncontrolled frenzy. He jerked off her bra with nearly the same ease, as two full, firm, perfectly upturned, and beckoning breasts sprang forward. Her nipples were so hard and protruding, he could have hung coffee mugs from them. There was no planning, no thinking at all, only instincts, and instantly his mouth was suckling one breast voraciously while his other hand grabbed as much of the other as he could, squeezing it and kneading it until her head fell back against the wall and she involuntarily screamed with pleasure. His worn, tight-fitting jeans along with his boxers were around his ankles without his knowing how they got there. She held his fully upright, thick, and throbbing manhood in her right hand, as she would have the stick shift of a Maserati, squeezing it firmly, leaving no doubt who was doing the driving now.

In hoarse gasps with a sense of dire urgency, she pleaded, I want you inside of me; I need you inside of me.

He couldn’t answer her. He couldn’t speak any longer and he was reduced to breathless grunting.

With her left hand, she peeled her nylons and panties down her long, lean, shapely thighs and legs, and when they reached her ankles, she feverishly kicked them off. Once free from them, she shifted his erection into fifth and placed it horizontally between her legs. It was so extended now that the head protruded beyond her perspiring buttocks. She squeezed it between her thighs several times, reveling in its girth and firmness. Grasping his broad shoulders, she turned and took three steps backward, falling back on the bed pulling him down on top of her. With her legs bent and her knees pointing to the ceiling, she spread herself wide open to ensnare him, and with a look of desperation on her face moaned, Please take me, please.

He didn’t need any encouragement. He truly loved her, needed her, desired her beyond reason, and he would spend the rest of his life making her feel loved every waking moment of hers. They couldn’t wait a moment longer. Now both thoroughly wet with anticipation, he plunged himself deep inside of her in one fluid, yet gentle motion. At the same time, her body instinctively sucked him in. Their joining was hot and tight, a perfect, sensual fit. It was as if that was how they had begun before being cruelly separated somehow. At the moment of penetration, her eyes opened so wide he thought he could see the blood vessels pulsating on her retinas, and she moaned so feverishly it was obvious that she had not only lost the ability to talk but to scream as well. As their passion became interwoven, it was entirely about love and not sex. Both were on the verge of delirium as their centers sought and retreated, sought and retreated over and over, in a rapidly increasing rhythm until at last they simultaneously succumbed to their mind numbing, crippling, involuntary spasms, which allowed them to finally experience absolute and heavenly satiation. Once fulfilled, unable to move other than to stare breathlessly deeply into each other’s beckoning eyes while still interlocked at the hips, they had come full circle and they were back to where it all had started. No verbal communication was necessary as their consuming eyes did all the talking.

One

* * * * * * * *

Abby began to stir as slivers of the golden rays of the early morning sun found their way through the small opening between the drapes of her bedroom window, their warmth gently caressing the slumbering features of her face. She tentatively opened her eyes and gently rubbed them with the backs of her hands and began to wake. Thankfully, her first conscious thought was of the glorious evening before, one that had lasted into the wee hours of the morning that she happily spent with a man so completely unique, she had never known anyone like him in her entire life. He was as close to perfect as a man could possibly be. She smiled, her expression a contented, dreamy gaze as she sighed and closed her eyes once again to revel in the magic she had experienced just hours earlier. As she rolled over and glanced at the object of her affection lying motionless on the bed next to her, she quietly said, You were wonderful last night. I love you so.

Her romantic trance was rudely interrupted as her cell phone, which was charging on the nightstand next to her bed, began to ring. The ring seemed louder and more piercing than usual due to the fact that she wasn’t completely awake yet. It also was too early in the morning for the summer sounds of the neighborhood to have created their pleasant white noise. It must be early, she thought as she reached for the phone, no one is even mowing their lawn yet.

Hello?

Hey, Ab, what’s going on?

Hi, Jules. Nothing much really, I just got up. I’m still trying to focus my eyes. In fact, I’m still in bed! she said while stifling a yawn.

Jules, or Julie as most other people knew her, was Abby’s oldest and dearest friend. The two met at the age of five during their first day in kindergarten, and had been inseparable ever since, for nearly twenty-seven years. Neither had any siblings and through the years, Abby and Julie became closer than most sisters could ever hope to be. Other than biology, the only thing that disqualified them from being real sisters was that they didn’t sleep in the same house each night, although they had sleepovers so frequently even that distinction was somehow less relevant. Even their last names were related, which enhanced their reputation as being as close to sisters as two non-sisters could possibly be. Abby’s last name was Lane and Julie’s was Street.

So what did you do last night, Ab?

Oh, Jules, I had the most glorious romantic evening. I was so happy and fulfilled.

Really, and would I be surprised to know who you spent such an evening with?

Not at all. It was Daniel.

You’re right, no surprise there. And I suppose he’s there with you right now?

He is.

So he was he as good as always, huh?

Abby dreamily looked over at him and responded, Yes every bit and then some.

Well, I’m very happy for you. Listen, why don’t you stop by for dinner tonight, that is, provided you won’t be with lover boy again, she added sardonically. We can have a beer and talk a little. Julie was always looking out for Abby’s best interests and she had some very serious concerns about her romantic choices in men.

No, I won’t be with Daniel tonight and that sounds great, I’d love to! Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

No, just the usual stuff, she lied. The usual stuff was Julie’s husband Rick and his lack of interest in anything other than alcoholic beverages and sports.

Okay, I’ll see you at what, six?

Yeah, that sounds great.

I’ll stop at the store and pick up a bottle of wine so we don’t waste any of Rick’s precious beer. Besides, Daniel loves wine and I’ve been acquiring a taste for it lately.

Julie rolled her eyes, a luxury of having a phone conversation about such subjects as Daniel. Whatever you want. See you later.

Okay Jules. Have a good day. Bye bye.

They both hung up. Abby looked over at Daniel and felt her heart skip a beat or two. He was very handsome, and there simply couldn’t be a man on Earth more romantic and sensitive than he was. His words painted such beautiful images that when he spoke to her she often found herself holding her breath. It was as if he knew exactly what a woman wanted and needed, and unselfishly did everything he could to satisfy her desires. He had a divine sense of humor that made her laugh for hours on end. But most of all, he knew the value of true love and commitment and believed that loving someone with all your heart was the sole reason for living. The time she spent with him left her feeling nearly complete as a woman and she couldn’t wait until they embarked on another adventure together. Sadly, it wouldn’t be for several months at the very earliest, but she was content for now just to look at his wonderful face.

She reached over, picked up Daniel, and leaned him against the lamp on her nightstand. That way she would see him every time she walked into her room, right before she went to sleep, and first thing when she awoke. The picture of Daniel on the back of Desperate Love, his latest novel, was his best picture yet. The expression on his face was more serious than that on his other book jackets and his eyes were very penetrating. Regardless of where she placed the book, or from what angle she looked at it, it always appeared as though he was looking directly at her. Those deep, dark brown eyes seemed to follow her around the room, which made him seem more real and alive. She felt his presence so strongly that she refused to get undressed in plain view of the book cover, despite having read and reveled in his searing but tastefully written climactic sexual passage over and over again the night before.

Daniel published a new novel about once a year. Abby had read them all and had read most of them several times. She discovered Daniel about two years earlier. She had heard of him in the literary circles she traveled by virtue of her job as the lone teacher of English and fiction at the local small town high school, but at that time didn’t consider him a serious author. She simply adored the classics: the works of Jane Austen, Thomas Hardy, and Edmond Rostand (she cried like a baby every time she read Cyrano de Bergerac), and considered the writings of a contemporary author who wrote of love in the modern era to be rather trivial. Still, as it seemed that he was becoming quite popular, almost a household name, she thought she would give him a try and purchased his original novel, Blackbird. She found the story to be so beautifully written she became completely immersed in it. It touched every emotion she had ever experienced. She went from laughing to crying to holding her breath in suspense, and back and forth so many times, she was exhausted once she finished reading it, which rarely took more than two sittings, regardless of how deep into the night that took her. Each of his stories was unique, but they all were about ordinary people who lacked love in their lives, accidentally stumbled upon it, fell hopelessly into its chasm, and then struggled to find a way to keep it alive and make it work. Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn’t, but Abby found it impossible not to insert herself into the role of the heroine, and she suspected that every woman who read Daniel’s novels did the same thing, which was why he was so enormously popular.

His picture was the first one you would see every time you walked into a bookstore. You couldn’t turn on the TV without seeing him on one of the many talk shows. He had truly become a celebrity, yet at the same time seemed uncomfortable with the notoriety, which only added to his character in her eyes.

Abby had gone so far as to write a letter to Daniel recently, trying to explain to him how his novels had touched her so deeply. She had also, selfishly or not, asked him to come to her school to speak to the students to inspire them to embrace literature. She knew he must receive thousands of similar letters from women all over the country, yet writing such a letter somehow seemed to make her feel closer to him. She had never received a reply from him, but that didn’t prevent her from fantasizing on a regular basis that one day her doorbell would ring and when she opened the door, she