Christy Unclawed: A Woman's Erotic Awakening

By Shoshanna Wynter

Christy Cameron, forty and divorced, is fed up with men and has been bored with sex for a long time. When the magazine she is free-lancing for sends her to cover a conference on “Can Women Really Have It All?” and she runs into Jeb McHugh, the arrogant author of “The Cougar Unclawed,” she is not only skeptical, but disgusted. His philosophy is all women need is a really good fuck to get their heads straight. And he’s just the guy to help Christy with that. Yeah, right.
But a steamy night with Jeb starts Christy on a two-month erotic adventure that takes her to sexual places she never thought she would go. Through it all, she wonders if it’s truly possible for her to have the “no-ties sex life” she realizes she’s craved for a long time.
As she experiments with a variety of men, she comes to find it’s a lot more complicated than she thought it was.
Can she have both love and hard core, life-changing sex?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shoshanna Wynter
• Release date: May 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301858521

Shoshanna Wynter

Much like the characters in her books, Shoshanna Wynter has led a life of erotic adventure and discovery. Born in Northern California, she went to Hollywood at a young age to follow her dream of becoming a movie star. That didn't work out. Shoshanna discovered, however, an aptitude for writing and an ability to relate to people. Much more exciting than the life of a Hollywood star, her careers (so far) have spanned screenplay writer, sex counselor, resident earth mother at a commune, organic farmer, florist, freelance writer and companion to an aging movie star.Always true to herself, she is still awaiting the next adventure, while sharing some of her alter egos' adventures with the reading public.Some may call her books porn, some prefer the term erotic. Shoshanna thinks of them as self-discovery, for in our sexual awakening, there lies our true selves.That said, Shoshanna also knows that sometimes everyone needs some hard-core erotic fantasy to take the edge off. She's happy to supply that with these stories from her life. The accounts are all true, and most of them happened to her. Other names and situations have been changes to protect the innocent. And the guilty.

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Christy Unclawed:

A Woman’s Erotic Awakening

By Shoshanna Wynter

Published at Smashwords

2013 Shoshanna Wynter

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

NOTE TO READERS

Christy Unclawed contains multiple scenes of sexual content between consenting adults. This content is hard-core and explicit. Please assess your taste for such content before continuing. Go to the final page to see other books by Shoshanna Wynter

Cover art by Miranda Wynter-Haven

FOREWORD

Some call my books porn. Some call it erotica – it sounds less dirty. I like to think of it as human behavior – the basic instincts that drive us all but that are buried in many of us, sometimes never to emerge.

I’ve led a varied life – from farm girl to waitress to model to addiction counselor to sex therapist. I’ve been the earth mother of a commune, a movie screenplay writer, a buddhist nun, a bartender, and the companion to an aging Hollywood star.

Through it all, I’ve been a sexual adventurer, always seeking the truth – and by finding it, self-enlightenment -- behind our most basic urges.

My Wynter’s Tales fiction series takes many of my personal experiences and molds them into fiction.

Whether you consider it porn, erotica, or just good fun, I hope you feel as I do, that good, hard sex is freeing and empowering to both women and men.

I hope you enjoy Christy’s adventures. I hope to share many more erotic adventures with you in the future

.

Shoshanna Wynter

Chapter 1

Christy really wasn’t looking forward to covering the conference. The subject matter seemed tired and cliché to her, and she’d been working way too much and would rather have a weekend just to herself. Maybe clean her apartment and get to some long-neglected correspondence.

But a job was a job, and when you’re trying to make a living as a freelance writer, you take what you can get. She hadn’t intended to be at this place in her life at forty, but after she split with Bill, she needed a change. Her job at the magazine seemed too routine, her life too routine.

She missed sex, but with Bill even that had become too routine. Not that it was ever inspiring, anyway. After the first passionate years of their marriage were over, once they’d discovered everything there was to discover about each other in the bedroom – which ended up not being a whole lot – her relationship with her Hitachi vibrator was more satisfying that her sex life with Bill.

Well, nothing was routine now. It was mostly scramble for jobs to keep her head above water. Forget about dating, or any social activity. Not that she was in the mood for dating, either. After the last few years with Bill, the irritations, the mechanical sex before it devolved into no sex at all, the constant arguments over trivial things -- she’d had it with guys for a while.

She hadn’t been in New York for ages, years really. But she knew she wouldn’t see much on this trip. Get what she could on the conference and then go home and take a week or two to form the think piece feature the magazine had asked her to write. It was a big paycheck, so she’d do what she had to.

She sighed as she looked at the sign in the hotel lobby: Today’s Woman: Any Better Off than Yesterday’s?

Ugh, she said to herself as she wrestled her suitcase into the elevator.

Can I help you with that?

She looked up from where she was trying to pull her overstuffed bag over the slight rise in the elevator floor. A man about her age, the only other person in the elevator, was leaning forward to help her. No thanks, she said automatically.

Suit yourself.

She heard amusement in his voice and looked up. He had gone back to leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed, a broad grin on his face.

She knew the type – arrogant, self-satisfied. He was handsome in a kind of off-beat way. More rugged and craggy than smooth movie star. Oh yeah, she knew the type all right. She’d been around enough men to be very well acquainted with the type. A little too sure of himself and his effect on woman for her liking. Let him try it out on the twenty-somethings in the hotel bar. She wasn’t biting.

She gave her suitcase a yank and it leapt into the elevator.

Atta girl, the man said.

She stood with her back to him all the way to her floor, feeling his amused eyes – yeah, she couldn’t see them, but she knew they were amused – burning into her back.

Christy was ordering a drink at the open bar at the cocktail party in the press and VIP hospitality suite when she heard her name. She turned around to see Susan Harris, a long-time colleague from the magazine she’d worked for. How’s it going?

Christy took her vodka martini from the bartender and took a deep breath. Susan had been a friend at the magazine, but they hadn’t talked much since Christy had quit and she knew she must look like a failure now, flailing away in freelance world, eons away from her glamorous editor’s job.

Susan, how are you? Are you covering this?

Yeah, you?

Yeah, freelancing for Modern Women. Taking the ironic approach.

Lucky you. I’ve got to play it straight.

They took their drinks to an uncrowded corner and surveyed the crowd.

This is going to be a drag, Susan said.

Tell me about it, said Christy. I’ve heard it all before and boy am I tired of it.

Right. Can women have it all? Are women who want to have it all making a mistake? Susan shuddered. You’d never know it was 2013. Everyone needs to get over it and stop asking about it. Just get on with living.

Bingo, Christy said.

Well, there’s an interesting aspect though, Susan pointed with her chin and took a sip of her drink. Christy looked where she was pointing. Elevator guy.

Who’s he? Christy asked. I ran into him on the elevator. Seems to like himself a little too much.

That’s a good assessment, Susan said. It’s Jeb McHugh.

Doesn’t ring a bell, Christy said.

Jeb McHugh? Author of ‘Unclawing the Cougar’?

Unclawing? That’s not even proper grammar, Christy said. Come to think of it, I have heard of him, because I remember thinking that when I saw the book’s title. Should be ‘declawing.’

Girl, didn’t you do your homework before you came down here? He has a whole chapter on ‘unclawing’ versus ‘declawing.’

Any way you slice it, it sounds like sexist drivel, Christy said. Isn’t his whole premise that women our age just need a really good fuck – from a guy like him presumably – to straighten our lives out?

More or less, Susan said.

You know, seriously? He wrote a whole book about that?

It’s a bestseller, sister.

Christy and Susan sipped their drinks as they watched Jeb order a drink.

Christy was disgusted, but she had to admit, she was also intrigued. Kind of like a car accident that you can’t turn away from.

For someone who hasn’t heard of him, you have the premise right, Susan said. He says women overthink sex because of feminism blah blah blah. And what they really need is to lie back and let a man take charge in the bedroom.

Great, said Christy. Every time I’ve done that, I’ve had to go digging for the vibrator later.

I hear you, Susan said, laughing. They clinked glasses.

Several drinks later, after Susan had gone up to bed and the party was dying down, Christy felt a tap on her shoulder.

Hello damsel in distress from the elevator.

She turned around to see Jeb McHugh, the same broad grin on his face.

I wouldn’t exactly call me that, Christy said.

Well, I felt bad I didn’t help you. Let me buy you a drink.

Okay, vodka martini, Christy said, wondering if she was going to regret it. Despite her irritation and knowing too well what guys like him were like, she was curious. There was something strangely alluring about him. Three vodka martinis didn’t hurt.

She watched him walk over to the bar. He walked with a lanky ease, that kind of male assurance Christy found both annoying and secretly arousing. Bill had been one of those regular guys who’d gotten a little pudgy over the years, liked the idea of sex, but didn’t have the energy or imagination to make it very interesting, until he gradually lost interest altogether. Christy admitted only to herself that was one reason she had finally left the marriage. One of many reasons, she reminded herself. Everything wasn’t all about sex. And the couple encounters she’d had since the marriage broke up reminded her that she was better off believing that – it had been rote at best, awkward at worst.

She sighed. Guess I’m just getting too old, she thought as Jeb returned with her drink. Better not tell him that. The last thing she wanted was to sound like she supported his sexist premise.

So, who are you and what are you doing here? I’m intrigued, Jeb said.

Christy laughed. He said it with such an ironic twinkle that it was hard not to like him. I’m Christy Cameron. I’m covering the conference for Modern Woman magazine.

Christy Cameron covering the conference, he said. Has a nice ring to it. I’m Jeb McHugh.

I know, Christy said, realizing as her head started to feel light that maybe the fourth vodka martini was one too many.

You do? I’m even more intrigued.

Well, your book is pretty well-known.

He grinned. I know what’s coming next. Every woman of a certain age has a big issue with it.

Woman of a certain age? Christy said, taking back any warm feelings she was getting for him. And what age would that be?

Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. He still had the big grin on his face, eyes twinkling. So sure of himself. You are of a certain age. Let me guess? You are very attractive, slender but still curvaceous, have a youthful spunk about you, but you’re still of a certain age. I’m gonna say around forty, give or take a couple.

Christy didn’t know whether to be irritated at the way his eyes traveled up and down her body as he reeled off her attributes, flattered that he managed to work in some compliments, or pissed off that he nailed her age instead of guessing a few years younger, like most people did. She prided herself on looking a lot younger than she was, with only a little makeup. She was of the opinion that exercise, eating right, sunscreen, moisturizer, and flattering clothes went a long way.

Now I know what you’re thinking, he said. You’re thinking that I’m an asshole. But deep down you know I’m right.

Right about what? Christy said, draining her drink.

Right that you are the age I think you are. Right that you have a huge problem with my book. And right that deep down, you know that the premise of my book is right.

What I know right now is that I’m a little buzzed and I have a long day tomorrow, she said. So I am going to bed.

He had drained his drink, too. I’ll escort you. I’m nothing if not a gentleman. She knew her face betrayed her irritation when he added, To the elevator. As I said, I’m a gentleman.

Fine, Christy said.

I was leaving the party anyway, he added.

They walked to the elevator bank and waited. Christy wondered where everyone had gone. Probably to the bar. Friday nights at these things usually hopped.

The bell rang as the elevator door opened.

After you, my lady, he said, bowing and sweeping his arm toward the door.

Just give it a rest, Christy said. That stuff doesn’t work on me. Anyway, I know you’re teasing me and that doesn’t work either.

Instead of responding, he said, What floor?

Eleven.

I’m on twelve, he said, pushing both buttons. So Christy Cameron, is Mr. Christy Cameron waiting for you upstairs? I couldn’t help but notice you’re not wearing a ring.

No, Christy said, looking up at the numbers flash. Why was this elevator so slow?

He was standing close to her. Too close. She could feel the heat from his body. She felt a finger under her chin and he tilted her face to his.

She wanted to say What the hell are you doing? but she felt paralyzed.

Christy Cameron, when was the last time you were kissed? he asked softly, then began to lean in. He looked her in the eye, a question, asking if it was okay. She didn’t react. He leaned in, starting slowly. She opened her lips and felt his tongue, just the tip, come into her mouth. His hand was on her jaw, his other on her ass, pushing it toward him, pressing it against his hips.

His tongue became more insistent and her mouth opened farther, her tongue meeting his. She couldn’t help it. Her hips, almost against her will, pushed against, then rubbed his, feeling his hardness.

The elevator bell rang, breaking the spell.

My floor, she said, pulling away. I don’t know— She wasn’t sure what to say. She was turned on, but also embarrassed. Damn martinis.

See you tomorrow, Christy Cameron. Sweet dreams, he said, with the same big grin, as the door closed.

Christy saw Jeb from afar a couple times during the day Saturday, but did her best to avoid him. She felt a burning embarrassment from that kiss and her reaction to it, but also felt that if she came face to face with him, he’d look in her eyes, in that amused, knowing way, and know how turned on she still was, how turned on she’d been.

When she got back in her room after the kiss, legs shaking, she’d ripped off her pantyhose pulled the vibrator out of her suitcase and went at it without even undressing, pretending the buzzing electric head was the hard cock she’d felt pressed against her in the elevator. And that’s the last thing she’d want smug, chauvinistic Jeb McHugh to know.

She went out to dinner at a pricey Italian restaurant with Susan. Susan said she was dying for some good food and didn’t want to tackle