Mrs. Jones' Secret Life

By Christopher Maddox

A young man falls in love with his teacher. This story describes his unconventional way of getting past her fears of being caught and destroying her life. We only hear about the affairs that have gone wrong. We never hear about the ones that work, and there are more of them than anyone cares to believe. Affairs between students and teachers are usually short lived, but some can last a lifetime.

Nicholas first noticed Mrs. Jones in his sophomore year of High School, and he became instantly infatuated with her. She was a highly respected, senior-class creative writing instructor. She came from one of the founding families of the community and was a virtuous pillar of society. Independently wealthy, she chose to teach just two or three classes in the morning, leaving her afternoons and evenings free to pursue her other interests. Now in his senior year, Nicholas was finally in her class. His infatuation had become an obsession, and he began flirting with her, which she ignored, at least, for a while. The creative writing got a little out of hand when he wrote a romance story about a student and one of his teachers. Upon reading the story, Mrs. Jones determined that it was uncomfortably close to their relationship. Nicholas eventually discovered that, the above reproach, Mrs. Jones had a secret life. One which, if exposed, would end her teaching career as well as her reputation. Could she trust Nicholas to keep her secret and become her lover?

Excerpt:

She sat there shaken to the core. It was Nicholas. It really was Nicholas, her student. He had emailed her in confidence, having no idea who she really was. No one knew.
Her thoughts and emotions ran the gamut as she tried to process what had just happened and what she was going to do about it.
She was still breathing deeply from the intensity of her orgasm while she tried to compose herself and think. She needed to figure out how she was going to answer him. First, it was obvious that he was pretty talented, if that was truly his work, and she didn’t think that he was the kind of young man that would plagiarize another’s work. Therefore, she felt that he could actually compete in the marketplace, and she certainly didn’t want to do anything to discourage him. Where in the hell did he get all of that experience, she wondered?
She knew what she should do, but she didn’t know if she were strong enough to do it and then have to deal with it later as Mrs. Jones.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said aloud. That pretty well sums it up, she thought. She never drank in the middle of the afternoon, but she was going to make an exception today. She headed for the wine cellar, opened a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and poured herself a glass. She took a long, satisfying sip of the cool wine and walked out to the rear veranda to ponder what her response would be.
As she sipped her wine, she felt the gusset of her panties and realized just how turned on she was. He had done this to her. He had turned a mild-mannered, somewhat conservative erotic writer into a raving, sex-starved lunatic. Now, every time she thought about the large bulge in his pants, it made her squirm and get that certain tingly feeling, down deep within her womanhood, and that was a problem, she thought. Whoever taught him about sex did one hell of a good job, she mused.
“Oh well, what the hell, I’ll just have to deal with it,” she whispered, taking another sip of wine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Maddox
• Release date: May 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301360659

Christopher Maddox

I have always been addicted to love and romance. I like strong, independent women, so I tend to write about strong female characters that either start out strong or develop whatever inner strength is needed to see them through. My heroes and heroines are sometimes flawed because mistakes and imperfections always build character and strength in strong people. Some of my stories are taken from life’s experiences while others are drawn from experiences I wish I’d had. In my world, there are no boundaries to the limitless pleasures that can be found in the female form or from the joy that can be shared between lovers. However, my books are not about page after page of mindless, non-stop sex, but when it is appropriate, I try to make it real. Where love and romance have a chance to blossom, intimacy is usually part of the equation because it is the fuel that ignites the desire that leads to love. I like to think of myself as an adult romance writer with a moral compass. I live in Florida with my wife and three, poorly trained, dogs. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. I love happy endings. I love hearing from my readers and appreciate their comments and suggestions. Click on the link below if you would like to send me a message. Thank you. [e-mail]

Book preview

Mrs. Jones’ Secret Life

Christopher Maddox

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Christopher Maddox

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This work contains content of an extremely graphic nature including graphic sexual acts. All characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older. This is a work of fiction intended for adults 18 and over only. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Free Excerpt

Additional Work

Chapter 1

Mrs. Jones was a highly respected, well-liked English teacher at Westminster High School, which is located in a quiet suburb of Charleston, South Carolina. She was a true southern lady, who had been teaching creative writing classes for a number of years. Since her classes were advanced placement, college prep courses, not everyone in the senior class could qualify to take them. Because of this, there were usually only enough students to make up two or three classes each semester. This worked out just fine for Mrs. Samantha Jones because she needed her afternoons free.

She was forty-one and in her prime. She was, by far, the prettiest teacher in the school. At about five feet ten inches tall, her slender frame gave her a youthful, athletic appearance. She had captivating green eyes with dark-brown specs scattered lightly about. Her dark-brown hair curled down around her shoulders, ending about halfway between her shoulders and her breasts. Her breasts were not large, but on her small frame, they looked luscious and abundant. Her hips were narrow, but she had one of those bottoms that men just couldn’t take their eyes off of whenever they thought no one was watching.

Unfortunately, she lost her husband three years previously in an automobile accident. He had been a very successful criminal defense attorney, who left her quite well off with a combination of investments and a large life insurance policy. Actually, Samantha really hadn’t needed to work for a number of years now. Her parents were wealthy, her husband left her a substantial amount of money, and she had other sources of income as well, substantial sources. She taught school because she felt that it gave her a sense of purpose, and she really loved her students, many of whom stayed in touch with her for years.

She lived in her family’s ancestral home in one of the nicest neighborhoods in the community. Her parents were both deceased, so she lived in the big old house by herself because she had never been able to bear children. Her father had been the town’s physician for nearly thirty years. He had sent her to several top specialists, and all of them concluded that she would never be able to conceive.

Her natural beauty was enhanced by the way she dressed, not provocatively but tastefully, in designer outfits that most people simply could not afford.

She could have had nearly any man she wanted. She certainly had plenty of offers, but at this point, she was not interested in sharing her life. She was gorgeous, intelligent, and a highly-respected member of the community, who gave generously to its various charitable causes. All things considered, she was the height of Southern propriety.

The two or three classes that she taught each semester suited Samantha just fine because she really didn’t want to work full time. She was able to schedule her classes for the first two or three periods in the morning, which gave her the rest of the day to pursue her other interests. At eleven o’clock, she would gather her study materials, return home to her downstairs office, which was more like a library, and spend the rest of the day working there.

Her house was a two-story structure that had been built by her grandfather, who, strangely enough, had been an attorney. The front of the house had a covered veranda that spanned its entire width. The crystal inlaid front doors opened up into a large entry foyer with a sweeping, curved staircase leading up the second floor.

To the right, through a set of double doors, which were never closed, was a large family room with a newly remodeled modern kitchen to the rear. The dining room was off to the right in an area that resembled a solarium because it was surrounded by windows on all sides. To the left of the entry foyer, through another set of double doors, which remained open, was a formal living room with a magnificent hand carved deep-red, marble fireplace.

To the rear of the formal living room, through another set of double doors was her library. It had another fireplace that was almost the same as the one in the living room except it was adorned with hand carved black marble. There were two more doors leading from the library. One opened to the rear veranda, which again, covered the entire width of the house. The other door was connected to a hallway that lead to the kitchen. This hallway went past a huge pantry and a wine cellar, which were both situated behind the grand staircase.

Even though the rooms were large, closing the doors gave her a claustrophobic feeling, and besides, who wants to open and close doors all of the time. To the rear of the kitchen, there was a covered veranda that served as an outdoor dining area that seated eight people.

The upstairs had a large, central gathering area that went from the top of the stairs to the back of the house where there was another fireplace located in the center of the wall. All of the walls around the gathering area were covered with bookshelves, containing photographs, family mementos, and of course, lots and lots of books. There were four bedrooms upstairs, each having its own fireplace.

The master bedroom was located at the rear of the house to the right of the gathering area. Two of the three remaining bedrooms were toward the front of the house. They were guest bedrooms that were used whenever family or friends visited. Again, all of the doors remained open. There was no reason to close them as she lived alone. The bedroom that was situated opposite of hers, to the left side of the gathering area, always had the door closed and locked. It was a bedroom; however, Samantha now used this room to store some of the things that she didn’t use every day, and since it was used for storage, the housekeeper did not need to have access to it.

After arriving home, she would usually change into something more comfortable, go downstairs, and fix herself something light to eat. Her lunch usually consisted of a sandwich or a cup of soup. Upon finishing lunch, she would fix herself a cup of hot tea and proceed to her library where she would work the rest of the afternoon. She always read and graded her student’s efforts before getting to anything else, but once she was finished with that, she opened her dedicated laptop and began typing away at a book under the pseudonym of Crystal Summers.

She smiled each time she saw her pseudonym on the cover of one of her books and thought about the reasons why she had to use one. She was, in fact, a very successful author with a huge following, having sold thousands of books over the years. However, the reason she used a pseudonym was because her genre was erotica.

If they only had a clue, she mumbled aloud with a slight chuckle. She thought for a moment about all of the times that her friends and fellow teachers had commented about one of her books while not having any idea that she was the author.

Yes, that’s right Crystal. Everyone thinks that you have such a great sex life, but the fact is, you haven’t even been laid in over three years. That’s some sex life, she said with a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She would go insane, she thought, if it weren’t for her fingers and the several sex toys that she had at her disposal. The fact is that she stayed aroused most of the time when she was writing

It seems that when you write erotica, you have to feel the scene that you see in your mind, and when you describe it in detail, it can be fairly arousing. She, in fact, had vibrators stashed upstairs in her bedroom and downstairs in her library. Downstairs, they were locked away in the bottom drawer of her desk. Thank God, she thought, you could order anything you wanted online these days and have it delivered in an unmarked, nondescript package.

******

Nicholas Adams was a tall, handsome, well-built young man. He was not a sports jock or muscle-bound, but he was well proportioned and had a good, solid physique. He was a serious student who was well liked by almost everyone because of his friendly, outgoing personality. His loosely-brushed, blond hair, his blue eyes, and broad smile made him a favorite with the girls. Having an outgoing personality, he was not shy around them, and as a result, he had an active social life.

He remembers as if it were yesterday, the first time he saw her. It was during his second year of high school. She had been walking across the schoolyard with a couple of students, and the sight of her simply took his breath away. She was tall and thin, somewhat athletic looking. She had long, brown hair that came down and curled around her breasts, which looked as if they were just about the most perfect breasts he had ever seen. She was wearing a tight, emerald green skirt, a red blouse with red, high heels and a belt to match. She was walking briskly, and apparently, she was completely unaware of how much her breasts were bouncing.

It was, however, her emerald-green skirt that Nicholas couldn’t take his eyes off of. It was covering what he thought was the most incredible piece