My Manager

By Byron George and Sandra Powers

An exquisite, erotic, modern true love story. It is Sandra's story written as Byron's journal of their life together from their meeting on-line, through many adventurous romps as they travel the world as growing celebrities. They love their art, music, and poetry, while their empathy and liberality involves them in many situations, polyamor

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Regency Publishers, US
• Release date: Jun 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781958517178

Byron George

Byron's travels are well documented in the Desert Love series based mostly in Dubai they document the seamier side of life in that outwardly strict Country. Not happy with the tourist beach areas, Byron hangs out in the town and frequents the night clubs and bars that are full of ladies from the Orient and Africa and loves them all, an emotional roller coaster. Byron lives between London, Thailand and Dubai in these crossover Erotica and Love stories.

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Copyright © 2022 Byron George & Sandra Power.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author and publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review.

ISBN: 978-1-958517-18-5 (Paperback Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-19-2 (Hardcover Edition)

ISBN: 978-1-958517-17-8 (E-book Edition)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022910747

Some characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to the real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Book Ordering Information

The Regency Publishers, US

521 5th Ave 17th floor NY, NY10175

Phone Number: [phone] ext 1007

Email: [e-mail]

www.theregencypublishers.com

Printed in the United States of America

Our affair started with this poem titled Missed You My Love, after we had been talking on the telephone, but weekends kept us apart.

Missed you my love,

A weekend without you

Has triggered melancholia.

A deep-down sadness

Has entered my soul.

My dreams have one picture,

I cannot forget at all.

You float in the ether,

You drift in sub-conscious,

A filmy, misty memoir

Of expectations to come.

You wanted to stay until morning,

But had to leave me just,

One picture,

One picture,

That left me wanting, in lust.

My darling, it’s lonesome,

The night is so stark,

My desire so heightened

in the dark.

We should be spooning,

While cooing,

And wooing,

Before the dawn.

My body’s hot,

My desire aroused,

My hunger is early.

To stroke your silkiness,

Your proximity,

Your wetness,

Your sweat,

The smell of your hair when wet.

The breath in the morning

All honeydew sweet,

The taste of you there,

In the petals, the folds,

The pearl in the oyster,

That opens to my touch.

Your beauty unfolds,

As we wake

But I feel across,

Half asleep,

Half Awake.

In my head, you remained,

But you’re not there.

Don’t keep me away,

Don’t leave me today.

Send me a word,

One word of love

I need your succour.

One, or better two

Love you,

Maybe three.

I love you,

Or more,

And again more

I want that feel,

That makes you real.

Missing you baby so much!

Chapter 1

Meeting My Literary Agent’s Manager

Became Love, Lust, and Unlimited Desire.

O h Sandra, what did you do to me that day on the telephone? That was the question I asked myself after she called. Her accent had a hint of Southern Europe with more New York, but she was so effusive, expressive, full-on flattery as her other colleague had been. I figured it was part of their sales training and laughed openly aloud. My wife of 40+ years was in the room so I couldn’t respond how I wanted to. It has often been like that at home, my marriage gave up on the physical long ago, we are friends that have grown old together. She’s been a great mother and proud grandmother these days. I’m just an old foolish romantic, probably a sex maniac, but not ready to give up on my masculinity yet. My wife commented that I sounded like a silly teenager as I spoke to her, maybe that was the effect she had even then.

My life over the previous 20 plus years has been one of travel for work. I lived in places many people wouldn’t even go to, and I even had a mistress in Thailand for 13 years who lived in a house I bought on the proceeds of my offshore company and deals that were borderline on the legality. Consequently, I got hit by the big financial crash and lost my attempts at an international property empire in one go. I had many affairs on my travels, loved every one of those women, and most still talk to me today or even get together when I get the chance to pass through their countries. I studied how to be a better lover at the degree level! Ancient and modern methods and I wrote up those encounters in erotic novels. I don’t hold to what is often considered erotic that you’d find on BookBub, usually harsh American books where the women are often labeled as sluts or part of some S & M fantasy. I consider mine as records of beautiful fleeting memories, emotions frozen in time, the sort of encounter that both would hold precious.

In my research, I studied the old Taoist meditations and Tantric use of sexual techniques and I use that to show the more spiritual side of my main characters. Sandra made no secret of her feelings in her follow-up emails and sent a very sexy picture at my request. Dark brown, almost black eyes, long dyed hair of shades of light brown, blonde and black, with luscious red lips. She had a seductive half-smile and great cleavage in that first image sent to help my dreams for that night. That was the start of my quest to get to New York. It had been on my list of goals anyhow, to plan a tour of the USA later in the year, to do book promotions and signings in the places that mattered. I had listed New York, Washington, Los Angeles, and San Francisco, then Austin, and ended in Miami for the Writer’s Boot Camp.

I flew into JFK and took a taxi across town to the Residence Inn by Marriott, a nice, understated hotel, close to almost everything with great views across the city. More importantly, it was close to Sandra’s office, and once I’d dumped my bag and had a quick shower to make sure I smelled good, put on my usual, casual shabby chic look. I could do suits when necessary, but never saw the reason unless I had to, I wanted comfort and I am a writer after all. I wasn’t due into Sandra’s office until the following day, but she had made it plain that she wanted me that evening. That is how she put it, in her typical, no-nonsense New York manner, I’m your woman and I want you first! I’m not used to that sort of directness but have always admired strong, intelligent women. They always seemed to find me also. Someone of strong will who is confident in their soul has that attraction. I fall in love wherever I go, it is almost compulsory to my whole being. I’m a people person and can’t see why a perfectly natural body function should be stuck in the ways of some small-minded judgemental types who frown on adults enjoying some mutual fun. What two, or even more, do in private, so long as they don’t hurt, is how I see the world.

It seemed that Sandra was even more into that than I was, for she had made it quite plain she intended to have me, not the opposite, which made me laugh, and also made me very horny. I sat in the corner of the bar looking out and waited for her.

I couldn’t miss her when she arrived, her larger-than-life smile, boundless energy, and beauty as she almost skipped straight at me and planted a huge kiss on my lips with those fully bright red luscious ones of hers. I swear she even gave a hint of the tongue to make sure that I got the intentions and grabbed my upper arm. I took in her look, and it was almost exactly like the photograph she had sent me, a silky knit skimpy top with butterfly motifs to the side of each breast, thin shoulder straps, and fine white lacy bra, visible through the knit. A navy blue mini-skirt and black heels, and bare legs, the only extra she wore was a long pashmina style shawl or scarf in red, that she let drop as she sat and leaned forward to show me her ‘assets’ making plain her desire. Sandra pulled me eagerly to a smart corner with cozy chairs and waved the waiter to bring her a glass of white house wine. Since that first approach, we had had many chats and always got on well and had no need to gauge our compatibility.

As we sat and drank our wine, our chairs almost of their own volition moved closer, and we were both demonstrative with our hands, lightly touching the other at times. It was still early, and dinner was our intention, but the pent-up expectation overcame us. The more I looked at Sandra, I was also taken in by the cute curl of her ear lobes, and leaned over to whisper in her ear, but couldn’t help myself as I kissed it, then ran my tongue lightly up it before hotly saying into her inner ear, let’s go up to the room now, life’s too short. Sandra shivered as I spoke, and I could see her brushing her forearm as the tingles and goose pimples took over.

She was as ready as I was for she took my hand, looked me directly in the eyes, and stood without saying another word. I helped her pull the shawl around her shoulders and couldn’t help giving them a light squeeze and kissing her neck as I pulled her hair free. We held hands as we walked to the elevator.

As soon as we were in the room, we went into a clinch, longing French kisses, and she gave as good as I could give, our kissing was everywhere, in every erogenous zone we could find. I’m not even sure who undressed who, I think I pulled those thin straps down on her top and reached behind to loosen her bra, Sandra’s miniskirt was already at her feet and her heels were kicked off, my chinos were down, my polo shirt was thrown behind onto the desk and she had grabbed a handful of my chest hair and was pulling me on top of her on the bed behind. I was kissing her mouth, her boobs, her nipples, I suckled those like a baby until they came out like thumbs. We were not making love yet; we were almost fighting with lust. We both moved back up the bed and I went down between her legs. Her lacy white panties were still on, but I didn’t want to remove them just then. I wanted to eat and suck them until they were so wet from inside and out and I could get my tongue in behind to her shaved pubis. I was like a mad bull, in a trance, I towered above as I ran my erection across, rubbing her clitoris with it. Sandra wasn’t letting me have it all my own way though, she grabbed my hair and pulled me back up to her lips.

Eventually, my hands pushed her soaking wet panties down and my fingers were doing their magic. Sandra had pushed me back and was taking me in her mouth and I pulled her legs across and over my face. We were both completely gone in lust, I had forced her butt cheeks apart and was hanging on with my arms as my tongue was everywhere, along her perineum, in her butt hole and