The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection 59: 11 Erotica Books

By AmorBooks.com

This is a massive collection of 11 Erotic Books for Women, an ultimate package consisting of 11 tremendously popular Erotic Short Stories for Women, by 11 different authors.

All of the 11 chosen books are exclusive to this specific collection, so even if you've purchased other volumes of ”The Ultimate Erotic Short Story Collection” you can rest assured that you will receive no duplicates between collections.

These are the 11 included books in this collection:

Seeking Magic by Rebecca Milton

Patricia Chooses to Play by Jean Mathis

The Bookworm by Inez Eaton

Meeting an Idol by Emma Bishop

Revenge Porn by Pearl Whitaker

Talent and Emotion by Bonnie Robles

Stolen Panties by Grace Barron

The Island of Freedom by Paula Frost

Monica Gets More Help Than She Expected by Georgia Farley

Unchained by Love by Vivian Hicks

Office Games by Odette Haynes

Whether you prefer romantic erotica, light erotica, or really hardcore stories you will surely be satisfied as this collection is a mix of the best of the best across many different erotica genres.

Simply put: If you have even the slightest interest in reading great Erotica specifically written for women readers, you are going to LOVE this collection!

Warning: These stories are intended for adult readers 18 years of age or older. They contain explicit language and graphic sexual content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmorBooks.com
• Release date: Jan 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005233198

AmorBooks.com

AmorBooks.com publishes sizzling erotica and romance stories that pack a punch.With over 40 authors under our umbrella it doesn't matter if you prefer cosy romance stories, light erotica, or really hardcore stories - you are bound to find something you like.

Book preview

The Ultimate

Erotic Short Story Collection 59

11 Steamingly Hot Erotica Books For Women

by AmorBooks.com

Copyright 2021 AmorBooks.com

Distributed by Smashwords

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As a Special Gift for acquiring this collection you are entitled to another 10 Free Bestseller Romance and Erotica Books worth $34 PLUS incredible weekly deals on new books and collections! Do as over 12,700 people before you and grab it all — FREE for a limited time only!

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Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

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Table of Contents

Seeking Magic

Patricia Chooses to Play

The Bookworm

Meeting an Idol

Revenge Porn

Talent and Emotion

Stolen Panties

The Island of Freedom

Monica Gets More Help Than She Expected

Unchained by Love

Office Games

Seeking Magic

by

Rebecca Milton

The street, the world outside the coffee shop, the sounds of the day, came and went with the opening and closing of the door. The spoons in the cups of coffee moved slowly, stirring in sugar, sugar substitute, cream, soy replication of cream. The world came in, went away, came in again.

I guess I need to get a life, she sighed, her sigh sounding like the scrape of the spoon on the bottom of the coffee cup.

It’s a myth, the other one said, the word myth sounding like the hiss of steam from the espresso machine.

The world came in and stayed for a long moment. They looked up from their cups, spoons, sighs and hiss, they looked toward the door and saw a couple standing in the doorway. The man holding the door open, the woman smiling, leaning in, kissing the man’s cheek. They stopped their stirring, sighing, hissing and put themselves in her place. They pressed their lips to his cheek. They took her smile and fashioned it to their faces. They gulped down her laugh and coughed it up from their mouths. The doorway couple concluded their connection with the words; See you tonight and they took the night, the one to be seen in, and filled it in with themselves. With their clothes, their walks, their desires, their needs. The door closed and the world went silent again. They kept their eyes on the door for a moment, seeing themselves walking away, seeing themselves laughing into the daylight, knowing that night there would be... romance, connection, touch, love. When the world did not enter again, when they could no longer replace their present with another’s, they returned to their spoons, cups, sigh and hiss.

I need a man, she said.

A battery is more reliable, the other one said.

I need some magic, the third one, the one that went unnoticed, the one that never offered anything useful, the one that didn’t sigh, hiss, scoff or have a bad word to say about anyone, said. Then, the door opened, but the world did not come in. They all looked at the open door, the silence that stood in its gaping maw. Magic, the third one said as she got up, gathered her purse, her scarf, her coat and walked into the silent offering of the open door. When she had stepped through the door, it closed slowly behind her.

That one, she said.

Such a... the other one said.

When they had spoken, expressed all that they had to express, they returned to their stir, sigh, hiss. Outside, the daylight was dancing, the street was humming with life and the third one, the one that didn’t always agree, the one that said things like; she’s not that bad, and I actually think that’s charming, the one that didn’t laugh when they spoke of someone who got hurt or smacked down or what they so richly deserved, stood on a street corner as an unexpected wind, swirled around her carrying newspaper, paper cups, bits of tissue and hand bills for clubs, parties, free meals and live nude exhibits. When the wind disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared, there was a red hand bill stuck to her body, at her mid section. She pealed it off and was about to toss it in a nearby trash bin when she saw the words; your love destiny written at the top of the paper. She unfolded the hand bill and read the ad for Mr. Krowchek, the mystic, seer, palm reader, decoder of all things strange and wonderful in the universe.

Magic, she said to herself and she carefully noted the address of the mystic’s studio then folded the hand bill and slid it into her purse.

There was work to return to and so, the magic would have to wait. She was determined, however, to find it, hold it and apply it to her life. That’s what she needed. She didn’t need to be sitting in coffee shops with her and the other one, she needed to be out, living, seeking, welcoming the magic that she knew filled all the cracks and crannies of the world.

Back at work, she entered the cubical where she sat all day and typed words on keys that showed up on screens, she did not feel there was any possibility for magic here. Work was the place to do what she did, get through the day so she could leave, go home and... what?

Go home and what, she asked herself as she slid into her chair, clicked on the computer and looked at the work she needed to do. There was no magic at home either. There was a cat. A very large cat that liked to lay on her back and stare up at the ceiling. A cat that was not affectionate like other cats. A cat that didn’t rub against her leg or bump its forehead into her, the way she had seen other cats do with their owners. Her cat would sometimes come and sit on her chest when she laid on the couch and watched T.V. Even then, she, the cat, only stayed for a few moments and then she would jump down, lay on the floor and look up at the ceiling. That wasn’t magical, it was just odd, really. So, why rush home? The cat wouldn’t know the difference. She stared at the blank screen and thought about the hand bill that had floated up from the street and clung to her body.

As if by magic, she said and smiled. Yes, there certainly was magic in the world and, that day, after work, she would actively seek the magic out.

Hey, Kate, her boss, Alexander Miller, said to her as he stuck his head into her cubical. He was a good man, a quiet man, a man that Kate liked very much and, truthfully, he was the one reason she remained at her job. A job that lacked magic, didn’t challenge her very much but paid a decent amount. Once a week, Mr. Miller would stop by her cubical to ask her to do special work for him, stay late, work extra. He always paid her, was always thankful and, it seemed, she was the only one he asked to do these tasks. She hoped that today was not one of those times. Are you busy tonight, do you have plans? he asked her and without thinking, she responded.

Yes, I am, she said, quickly and with more force than the question really called for, I have special plans after work. He smiled and nodded his head.

Good, he said, I’m glad you have special plans, you deserve that.

Did... did you need me to do something, Mr. Miller? she asked, suddenly feeling guilty for snapping so quickly.

No, he said, never losing his smile, I had some... work, but nothing that can’t wait. Nothing that is worth disrupting special plans for. He hung in the doorway of her cubical for a moment. So, he said after a moment, big date, huh? She stared at him, confusion running across her face. Special plans, is... do you have a big date?

Oh, no, she said feeling her face flush, feeling flustered, I’m going to find some magic. As soon as the words came out she wished she could gobble them back up, suck them back in and swallow them, never letting them see the light of day ever again. Mr. Miller gave her a quizzical look, nodded and stepped away from her cubical, disappearing back into his big, plush, corner office with a view of the city that took her breath away any time she went in there. She sighed, wondering if he would now think she was a loon, wondering if he would stop asking her to work late, do extra work for him. Even though it was extra, she liked doing it, she liked being called on by him, she liked that he called on her and only her. She felt special. Now, she worried that she would no longer be or feel special. She sat at her desk, looking at her computer and contemplated going to his office and telling him she had no real plans, telling him that she was available for him to do whatever he needed. She decided she would do just that, rose from her desk and knocked her purse to the ground. The contents of the purse spilled out and there, on top of her lipstick, (coral dream), travel tissue pack, breath spray and various other items, was the hand bill. She picked it up and stared at it.

Magic, she said to herself and sat back down. She would not stay late, she would not do extra work, not tonight. Tonight, she told herself, tonight I am going to find magic.

At the end of the day, as she stood waiting for the elevator to come and take her down to street level where she would walk to the subway and head home to her large, odd cat, Mr. Miller stepped up to her. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Again, she felt the weakness of desire. The desire to help him. The desire to make him think her special. She almost gave in at that moment, almost told him her plans had been canceled, told him she was there for him. She was about to give in, give over, give up when he spoke.

I hope you find magic tonight, he said to her and his voice was warm, sincere with a slight sadness to it, I think that sounds kind of incredible. Magic. She didn’t know what to say. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt suddenly connected to him like never before. She reached out and touched his hand.

If I find it, Mr. Miller, she said to him, making sure she held his glance, made sure he knew she was terribly serious, I promise I will share it with you. She gave his hand a squeeze and the elevator doors opened. She stepped in, pressed the L button and turned to him. His face was full of wonder.

Thank you, Kate, he said as the doors closed and caused him to vanish. When the doors opened again, he was not there and she was on the ground floor.

Magic, she said to herself and stepped out of the elevator.

On the subway, she sat, her legs crossed at the ankles, as was proper. Her hands folding and unfolding the hand bill, the address, the promise of magic. She watched as the train moved beyond her everyday stop, beyond the stop for the market, beyond the stop for the movie theater. She watched as the faces became unfamiliar. She watched as the world she knew became a world foreign and, in some ways, slightly frightening to her. Finally, the train stopped at Wentworth and she got off. She walked quickly toward the stairs and took them up to the street, up and out of the subway station.

The sun was starting to sink when she hit the street. The city was beginning its night time ritual of rebirth. Daytime shops closed giving focus to nighttime hot spots, bars, clubs, fancy restaurants. People dressed differently, the energy was different. She loved this. She loved sitting on the stoop of her apartment and watching the night people walk and dance, hug and laugh. She watched them like a child watches a parade, full of wonder, hoping someday to be a part of all the excitement. She checked the hand bill again, got her bearings and headed north on Doppler. When Doppler connected with Ridgeway, she took a left. The further she walked on Ridgeway, the fewer people she saw. The fewer night spots she saw. The more she walked, the more she became uneasy. She clutched her purse tighter to her chest, she became more aware when she did see a person or persons. She thought about stopping, going back to the busy street, back to the people, back to the vivid and present nightlife. This street, with its many shadows and dark doorways, with its foreboding corners and empty store fronts, this was not magical at all. This was a street of nightmare. This was a street she had been warned about as a young girl, a street she had seen on the news where bad things happened. This was not a street for...

Magic, she said out loud, unable to control her own voice. Up ahead, not more than fifty feet away, she saw the sign. Sticking out from the side of a brick building was a red sign that said; Questions, Doubts, Wonders, Visit Mr. Krowchek. There was a picture of a single, large, eyeball. She stopped for a moment, caught her breath and pushed on. Magic was at hand.

She stood in front of the building and looked at all the posters in the windows. Words that promised love, fortune, happiness, health. Words that spoke of connection with friends and family who had left the earth but were waiting to hear from you. Words that told of spirits seeking people to connect with, aid in this world of troubles and woe. Words, in short, of magic. She relaxed, feeling safe simply standing in front of the windows, feeling protected. She looked at the hand bill and then back to the windows, it was even more glorious than she had imagined. She put her hand on the door knob, gave a little twist and pushed the door open.

Inside she had to blink to allow her eyes to adjust. It was dim in the room. The air had a smell of age and mystery. She stood still, the door closing slowly on its own behind her. She breathed the room in, catching hints of cinnamon, tobacco, vanilla and scents she could not identity. When her eyes had adjusted, she saw two, heavy, wing back chairs, the cushions thick and welcoming. Tables scattered about the room had decks of cards, mirrors, bowls, candles on them. A doorway leading to someplace, someplace she could only image, was draped with soft, silk curtains.

This is perfect, she said, feeling that the room, the air, the whole place was exactly what it should be. Only in a place like this could true magic happen. She took a small step into the room and called out softy. Hello, she said, fearing she would disturb some powerful energy or sacred moment if she spoke too loud. In her mind, she pictured the wise and wonderful Mr. Krowchek. He would be older, like a grandfather but he would be graceful, wise, kind and patient. He would see her and know immediately what she needed. He would be careful with her because he would see that she believed and needed magic.

Hello, she said again, a little more strength behind her voice this time, is anyone here? She waited and got not response. Suddenly, she heard a sound, slightly high pitched, slightly rhythmic. It was coming from behind the silk curtains, it was moving toward the room where she stood. The sound seemed to be a chant with no clear melody, no real tune, just sounds. Other worldly sounds, she told herself, someone connecting with a realm that was not known to her, could not be known to her. This had to be Mr. Krowchek. She stood up straight, she smoothed her skirt, she wanted to look respectable, reverent, proper. The sound came closer and closer, the movement of the approaching body caused the curtains to move, shimmy and then they parted.

He was tall, slim, about 25 or 26 years old. His hair was long and died black. He had ear buds in and the chanting was actually him singing along to something he was listening to. His singing was terrible. He entered the room looking down at something in his hands and he began moving about the room, blowing out candles, shutting out lights. He paid no attention to her as if he didn’t see or want to see her. She cleared her throat, he kept doing what he was doing,