Coming Soon! New Erotic Suspense from Author Michele Gwynn

Teaser cover: Image Credit M. Gwynn All Rights Reserved

Are you ready for a new erotic suspense?  Coming soon (August 2014) is my latest novel, The Education of Sarah Brown.

A departure from my love of science fiction, TESB has been in the works off and on since 2009.  The story takes readers from San Antonio, Texas, to Europe where Sarah Brown seeks out adventures of an erotic nature to satisfy her long-oppressed sexuality.  Stifled for years caring for a terminally ill mother, she suddenly finds herself free to go anywhere, be who she wishes to be.  Her desires lead her through Barcelona, Spain, and into Berlin where she unintentionally becomes entangled in a dangerous relationship between Paul Christiansen and his uncle, Peter Knudson.  In between, she meets and falls for travel photographer and guide book author, Anthony de Luca, who is committed to remaining noncommittal.  As Sarah sheds her inhibitions and discovers who she is and what she wants, she gets closer and closer to danger that threatens to destroy all she holds dear.

Stay tuned for launch dates and promotion specials here!  In the meantime, enjoy this teaser.

Thanks for all your support!  Love, M.E. Gwynn

The Education of Sarah Brown

Berlin, Germany
Fall, 2013

He was beautiful.  Absolutely the embodiment of divine creation with his golden curls, blue eyes, and the promise of perfect cheekbones beneath a touch of what people refer to as lingering baby fat.  It wasn’t fat, per se, but the roundness of youth on the boy’s face that would fade away in another year or so.  At fourteen, he was angelic.  Striking. One could almost see the bones stretching and growing like a young sapling that would one day be a mighty oak tree.  For now, they lacked the musculature of a grown man.  The limbs were long and the back, straight.  His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed and were fringed with dark, thick blonde lashes.  His cheeks were painted naturally with two spots of color, and his lips, as they spread across his face with a hearty laugh, were lush and full.  Even his teeth were pearly white.  Perfection. 

The very sight of him took the man’s breath away. 

The boy was tossing a ball to a young woman with red hair.  She was older, a sister.  Just as lovely and striking, but not so much as the boy.  The man watched as the two played a game of catch in the park.  He had come to this park every day in the last two weeks since he first sighted the glorious creature.  On the third day, they returned with a Frisbee and a picnic lunch.  He followed them that day as he did today.  They left, and the man followed walking far enough behind not to be noticed, casually swinging his cane as if enjoying an afternoon stroll.

They lived in an old, faded yellow apartment building with too many units to discover which one was theirs.  He waited.  Two hours later, she left carrying a black duffel bag over her shoulder.  He followed her for four blocks where she took the stairs down to the tube and hopped a car that took them deep into the industrial center of the city.  Tourists didn’t frequent this side of Berlin.  Here, native Berliners came out to party at the clubs and to indulge themselves in the bars.  Then there were the others who blended into the hip party crowd, but slipped down back alley staircases to a world most didn’t know existed.  That’s where she went now without hesitation.

He waited, then followed.  The staircase led to a steel door painted black.  The logo at eye level was three large letters –XXX - painted red.  Above those in bright neon yellow were the words ‘Club Sexo’.  He went inside and was greeted by a glass-enclosed ticket booth which contained a dark-haired man wearing a leather collar with metal studs and no shirt sitting behind the counter.  To the left was a door, but it was closed. 

“You have an appointment?” he asked.

“No.  No I don’t.”  The man stood there looking at the list of club rules hanging on the wall behind the host in the ticket booth. 

“You have to have an appointment.”  Shirtless pointed at the rules behind him.  Sure enough, that was rule number one.

“How do I make an appointment?” the man asked. 

Shirtless gave an assessing glance to the man in the suit.  He noted he dressed well; seemed distinguished, even, with his groomed white goatee and hair accented by still-dark eyebrows above cold blue eyes.  His accent wasn’t quite German; more like Dutch.  Still, he looked much like the caliber of men who came and went nightly.

“You go online to this website”, he handed him a business card through the dip under the glass where tickets are usually presented.  “Pick who you wish to see, whatever your particular thing is.  All our Dommes have bios that describe their specialties.  We take all major credit cards, and you pay up front online before walking through that door.  The charge shows up as CX3 LLC to protect your privacy.  Once your appointment is made, you’ll receive a confirmation email or text, your choice, and you just show up.  Oh, and no refunds.”

“Thank you.”  The man took the card and put it in his inside breast pocket.  He tipped his hat and left.

He made his way back to the UBahn in the quickly falling temperature and found the tube heading back towards the side of town where he was staying.  Back in his room, he shed his suit jacket and pulled the card out of the pocket.  He set down his cap and cane next to the jacket.  Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled out his mobile and surfed the internet for the website on the card.  

The splash page asked him if he was over eighteen and to press ‘Continue’ to indicate he was, and that he accepted the rules for the site.  He chuckled to himself.  Beyond the firewall was an About Us section and an icon for “Our Talent”.  He tapped that key.  Several images popped up of women in various bondage costumes looking alternately fierce and sexy.  He found them amusing.  Scrolling through, one image stood out.  A red-haired woman in red lace bra and panties wearing thigh high red leather boots.  She had a red leather riding crop in her hands and appeared to be smacking it on her palm suggestively.  Mistress Elsa, it said. 

He tapped her image and her bio sprang up.  Mistress Elsa is an experienced Domme in the art of bondage for beginners to professional submissives to include extreme roping. Mistress Elsa will bind you, beat you, and/or humiliate you.  Your pain is her pleasure.  Make your appointment today.

The man smiled.  He changed screens to NOTES and typed.  Message saved, he put the card into his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table.  He thought about the boy and young woman.  His thoughts went to dark places.  Feeling edgy, he got up and picked up his jacket swinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms in. 
He grabbed his cane and cap.  Walking towards the door, he checked his breast pocket for his room key card.  Satisfied it was there, he left. 

Out on the street, he turned right and headed toward the tube station.  A ten minute ride south and he was stepping onto the platform.  He pulled his coat tighter around him.  The night air was cool in September.  Up the stairs and onto the street the wind met him head on.  This was not a decent side of town.  This was a slightly seedier area of Berlin but right on the edge of the best tourist spots.  Here, prostitutes plied their trade.  Women from Eastern Europe ended up here brought in by sex traffickers.  Most were strung out on drugs.  They looked dirty, ragged, and pathetic, old before their time and used up.  The man walked past these women in their platforms heels and short bargain basement skirts as they called out to him. 

One block beyond were a few young hustlers.  Three of them.  One was a tall, skinny black boy with a shaved head.  His shoulders were broad and his arms muscular.  Not him.  The second one had dark hair and a feminine stance.  He smoked a cigarette while talking and gesturing wildly with his hands.  Italian.  No good.  And too many facial piercings.  The third one was more clean-cut with short blonde hair.  His jaw was square and he had a dimple in his chin.  He hadn’t yet quite filled out.  His limbs were slim and well-formed.  He wasn’t overly tall, either.  He looked about seventeen, maybe eighteen.  He would do.

He walked over and asked the young man for a cigarette.  The other two hustlers gave him the once over, noting the quality cut of his clothing, and looked envious.  They waved at their friend and moved off leaving him alone with the man.



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