Touched in ways she never thought possible, Tania meets a man who will take her completely.
Tania Havers has no time for sex, never mind romance or boyfriends. Life as an investment analyst in the City of London gives her plenty of stress and competition from equally ambitious work colleagues.
On the advice of a friend, Tania tries out something different—tantric massages. Meeting Adam, an erotic masseur with hands that send her into sensual oblivion, she begins a covert affair, one that takes them out of the massage parlour, into a hotel room, then to her apartment and finally his basement, where Adam shows Tania his secret passion—one he wishes to explore with her.
While their erotic pastimes bring relief, Tania’s career intrudes on their relationship. Driven by ambition, she will deal with obstacles as she sees fit. Adam is about to find out whether Tania has room in her life—and in her heart—for him, or whether she will sacrifice their love to save her career.
Reader Advisory: This book contains scenes of anal sex and light bondage.
General Release Date: 21st November 2014
Tania began the day of her massage in the same way she had for most of her working life—rising early and drinking copious amounts of strong, black coffee. Every morning she ignored the running machine in the corner of her spare room and dived into the shower. The extra time spent steaming under the hot water was far more preferable to a brisk jog. She’d bought the machine six months earlier with the intention of using it every day.
Her plan had begun well and in those early days of keenness, she had even set her alarm clock twenty minutes early to give herself time. The novelty had worn off much quicker than she’d anticipated. Even with the news channel on the TV, she’d grown bored. It wasn’t that she needed to lose weight—her never-ending diet kept her trim. It was the idea that she would burst out of the apartment full of energy and ready for work.
That morning, as usual, the shower won. Standing under the monsoon spray, the heat permeating her skin, she simply wanted to shut her eyes and melt away down the plughole.
She found the mornings especially hard—waking up alone, in a bed made for two, and not having anyone next to her. No masculine dint in the mattress or the aroma of aftershave lingering on a pillow. Ignoring the absence in her life, she often had monologues with her face in the bathroom mirror. She ran through all her outstanding tasks and errands for the day—remember this, speak to so-and-so, pick up fresh bread on the way home. A daily to-do list recited as a mantra and nobody interested in hearing it except Tania.
After stepping out of the shower, she rubbed down with a fresh towel and wrapped a long cotton robe about her. The steam had glazed over the bathroom mirror. Now she couldn’t even talk to herself, so she headed into the kitchen for the important caffeine fix.
The apartment was her pride and joy—an investment of her own. It even had two bedrooms. The one she didn’t sleep in was where she had set up a desk and computer. It left the living space, which combined the lounge, dining area and kitchen into one, vast and free of clutter. Tania’s tastes were puritanical. No patterns adorned the walls or furnishings. The floor was bare, apart from two plain rugs, one situated by the sofa to keep her feet warm, the other laid out near the entrance to the apartment—a welcome mat of comfort, which she wriggled her toes on after removing her high heels.
The kitchen had been fitted with black cupboards and white surfaces—nothing wooden or countrified about her choice of color scheme. No pine knobs on the door handles. Instead, the drawers and cupboards were released with a gentle nudge of the hip. The hob had a large wok ring taking up center stage. Tania loved the simplicity of stir-fries, although she rarely made use of the burner. The refrigerator was of the size found in large family kitchens—an oversized temple for the adoration of quick and convenient meals. The shelves were stacked with prepared wrapped salads, thin-crusted pizzas with minimalist toppings and pots of pasta and sauces. If it couldn’t be heated in an oven or a single saucepan, Tania didn’t want to know about it.
Her culinary style wasn’t owing to a lack of interest in cooking. Tania did not have the time to indulge in lengthy sessions with chopping boards, raw ingredients and spice racks. Occasionally, and increasingly rarely, she baked cakes or biscuits for her colleagues in the office. She liked to treat her team to the odd moment of frivolity, typically triggered by a birthday celebration and on those rare days, she almost felt popular.
Tania suspected she was not admired by her work colleagues. A rapid rise up the ranks did not endear her to everyone, though she focused hard on keeping good relationships with her immediate team members. She accepted the situation with fortitude and ignored the backchat as she continued to climb over the heads of analysts who had been with the firm much longer. If they wanted to emulate her success, they had to work hard—very hard.
She drove her small team in much the same fashion as she did herself—relentlessly, unyieldingly and ambitiously. She had created a cooking pot of highly strung personalities and she liked to stir them up from time to time. Tania didn’t care that much for the lack of sleep, the stress and loss of social time, but an investment firm was a mean, competitive place to work. The choice was there for everyone—work hard or let someone else take your shoes.
If there were lessons in life to learn from, Tania closed her mind and ignored them. Her mother should have been the one to warn Tania. She had no doubt seen it all before and had noticed the danger signs, but Tania’s mother was far too happy in her own little bubble to rock the boat and remind Tania what had happened to her father. The long hours, the anxieties of surviving a recession and possible redundancy notices, plus the unsympathetic bosses—all these things Tania’s father had experienced to his cost. He’d keeled over in his early fifties with a heart attack and had left Tania and her brother fatherless. The life of a stockbroker in the midst of a financial crisis was dangerous.
Tania greatly admired her father. From him she had learned about banking, investments and how the financial markets worked. At the tender age of twelve, she had read out the latest stock prices over the breakfast table while her father had munched on his heavily buttered toast. He’d told her which were good investments and which were not to be touched, as if Tania had a ready source of income to invest. She had her pocket money and she played at banks in her bedroom, until her father finally had let her use some of it to buy her first shares using his account. They had been a good investment and the dividends had bought her some extra clothes.
As she’d approached adulthood, she’d loved the thrill of watching the digits change on the stocks and shares websites, allowing her to keep tabs on trends. It had been an easy choice when it came to university. She had taken an economics degree and had specialized in the financial markets. Her father had been very proud of his girl as she’d headed off to university and she’d looked forward to the day she would graduate and have her photograph taken with him. He hadn’t lived to see her graduation day. The phone call from her brother had interrupted her thoughts one day as she’d been writing an essay. Her father had died at his desk, surrounded by telephones and computer screens, his heart clogged up with butter.
Now, Tania had her own career as an investment analyst. Starting as a junior for an investment firm, she had put all of her father’s knowledge and expertise to good use and impressed her bosses into an early promotion to associate grade, skipping out on having to obtain extra qualifications. If there were pangs of regret that her father wasn’t around to witness her success, Tania buried them deep and remembered not to butter her toast too thickly.
The jogging machine was a futile attempt to keep herself in shape. Rather like her father, she never had the time to look after herself. However, the lack of social life and, in particular, sex, did plague Tania’s daydreams.
Tania’s one and only remaining school friend believed she had the solution to Tania’s problem as they’d talked on the phone the week before her massage appointment.
“Get married,” Melanie had suggested.
Tania had been able to see why that opinion was appealing to Melanie. She was married and had two kids and a dog. Her husband was attentive, well paid and home in the evenings. The kids did as they were told, for the most part, and the dog didn’t chew the furniture. Melanie, who spent the day cooking elaborate dishes, was more than happy with life.
Exploring the world of BDSM and romantic kinky lifestyles has been a passion of Jaye Peaches - to portray the desires beyond the erotic sexual encounters and unearth the personalities that lie beneath. Having written short stories and read many books, she issued a challenge to herself and decided to write her own novels of Domination and submission. By exploring the issues in a fictional context, whether in the bedroom or 24/7, now or in the past, she hopes to show how loving and fulfilling such relationships can be to those involved.
When not writing, Jaye is busy spending time with her family, enjoying music, sometimes composing or drawing and if the weather allows, gardening.
Jaye lives in NW England.
You can find Jaye on Goodreads and Pinterest.
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