The Lover

By Carla Bowman

The diaries of the legendary hedge fund manager and lover Bill Hammer, edited by Carla Bowman .About 14000 words. Adult content throughout.

As many of you will know, Bill Hammer, the legendary hedge-fund manager - and legendary lover - is no longer with us. This diary was found amongst his possessions, and it was suggested by the police that I edit the entries in this diary and publish them in the form of a book. It seems that Bill was sorely treated by the lady of his dreams and set out to wreak revenge on womankind in his own particular way. It is a tragic story, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I should add that to avoid embarrassing those involved I have changed every name - apart from Bill’s own. To be on the safe side, I suppose, I should also say that this is a work of fiction and that any resemblance characters might have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Carla Bowman. London. 2013

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dick Morris
• Release date: May 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781501408175

Carla Bowman

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Book preview

The Lover

The Bill Hammer Diaries – Part One

Edited by Carla Bowman

Copyright 2014 Carla Bowman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact: http://richygm.wix.com/dick-morris-books

This is a work of fiction and characters are imaginary. Any resemblance they may have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

published by: dick morris – carla bowman - books

Other books by Carla Bowman:

Jenny’s First Visit to Doctor Widmark*

Carla And The Black Door Club*

Stacey Finds Love*

The Party*

Three Erotic Love Stories*

*Also available as paperbacks

Foreword by the Editor

As many of you will know, Bill Hammer, the legendary hedge-fund manager - and legendary lover - is no longer with us. This diary was found amongst his possessions, and it was suggested by the police that I edit the entries in this diary and publish them in the form of a book. It seems that Bill was sorely treated by the lady of his dreams and set out to wreak revenge on womankind in his own particular way. It is a tragic story, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I should add that to avoid embarrassing those involved I have changed every name - apart from Bill’s own. To be on the safe side, I suppose, I should also say that this is a work of fiction and that any resemblance characters might have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

This a work of fiction and any resemblance characters might have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are eighteen years of age, or older. 

Carla Bowman. London. 2014

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I wake from a dream in which I had been God’s gift to women and the world, into a world in which I know myself to be God’s gift to women and to the world and lie staring at my reflection in the mirror on the far wall. The square jaw, the flawless skin, the cold blue eyes, and the neatly-trimmed fair hair, only now ever so slightly ruffled from sleep, the straight shoulders and muscular, but not over-muscular build, impress me every time I see them, and I am transfixed by them now for some minutes. Now too, of course, my life is even more perfect than it was a day or two ago, for now I have found my goddess.

I turn slowly onto my right side, prop my head up with my right hand, and look at her. She lies there, next to me, on her back, still asleep, her eyes closed, her waxen, flawless breasts, their broad dark nipples only just covered by the white Egyptian cotton sheets, rising and falling mesmerically.

I slip my left hand under the sheets and fondle my huge cock.. I had tired her even more than I had tired myself, and it was she who had called a halt to our activities, with the words: That’s enough Bill, my darling. That’s enough, for now.

I look out through the window. It is almost the entire width of the bedroom, and almost floor to ceiling, and it overlooks the River Thames. It is about ten o’clock on a sunny summer Monday morning, and the city skyscrapers across the river are brilliantly lit against a cloudless sky. Workers are in their offices, and, quite often, as now, I don’t bother to draw my bedroom curtains and let them be an audience. Most of them can only dream of being as successful as me, as attractive as me, as successful with women as me. Poor devils, most of them, destined to a life of drudgery, a pitiful existence. I turn my attention back to Tanith, sliding my left hand underneath the bedclothes, and placing it on her hip. She sighs and opens her eyes. I move the hand slowly up her body and cup and squeeze her left