by Carl Hamlin
Hannah’s Novel Idea
By
Carl Hamlin
©2013 by Blushing Books® and Carl Hamlin
Copyright © 2013 by Blushing Books® and Carl Hamlin
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Hamlin, Carl
Hannah’s Novel Idea
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62750-033-3
Cover Design by edhgraphics.blogspot.com
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
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Table of Contents:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Hannah Miller stood offstage at the NBC Today Show studio at 6:40 in the morning. She wrung her hands to calm the nerves she was feeling as she awaited her first appearance on national television. The program host transitioned into the next segment, a one-minute update on the status of a train collision in the Boston area. The producer signaled for Hannah to approach the sofa, and as soon as she had sat down, she was joined by the familiar young woman she often watched in her own Indianapolis apartment kitchen while eating breakfast.
Although she was the star guest for the morning, the new blockbuster author who had just topped the New York Times Fiction Bestseller List, she was in awe of her company that morning. The co-host turned toward her as the producer counted down the seconds until the camera would be on them, and then Hannah would be live in front of the nation.
The co-host nodded toward the camera and began to speak: "Now I am here with best-selling author Hannah Miller who has taken the popular literary world by storm with her new coming-of-age novel, Living with the Witches Upstairs.
“So, Hannah, how does it feel to be a bestselling writer?”
“Well, I have to say that, like so many other writers who are labeled as an overnight success, I have worked at writing for many years. I feel fortunate to have finally obtained a level of accomplishment.”
The tall blonde co-host laughed and nodded. “To say that you have reached a level of accomplishment may be a bit of an understatement. Not only has your new book sold like gangbusters, but your three previous novels have been picked up by major publishers and are now climbing the best seller lists in their own right.”
Hannah struggled to speak through her nerves, but maintained her composure and forced a smile as she tried to ignore the seeming certainty that she was going to vomit in front of several million viewers at any moment. She nodded sweetly and managed a soft laugh, as she replied, "Yes, I am very gratified to see my earlier work doing well. Those were all self-published books, but once Living With the Witches Upstairs gained recognition, I was contacted by several agents and publishers within a few days of each other.”
The host leaned forward: “Let me ask you about your previous career as a schoolteacher.”
Hannah leaned her head back against the car seat as her publicist drove her on to the CBS studio for her next appearance. She looked over at Hannah and shook her head. “Hannah, are you okay? You look a little pale.”
Hannah replied with a deep sigh and nodded her head. “I couldn’t sleep last night. I was so nervous. Now that I was so uptight on the Today Show, I’m really a basket case going into this next one.”
Jean Bennett looked at her sympathetically and shook her head. “Just get through the CBS show, and then once you’re done with Good Morning America, you can take a break before you head for Fox and CNN”. Jean was 60 years old, a veteran of the art of dealing with hype. With her silver hair and a semi – stern voice, she had guided many a young writer through the thrills and traumas of sudden popularity.
Hannah groaned. “I don’t think I’m ever going to write another book.”
Jean laughed. “ Oh yes you will. You love this too much and you know it.”
Hannah shook her head and rubbed her forehead. “I’m serious. I don’t think I’m cut out for all of this. I don’t know what city I’m waking up in from one day to the next. Remember two days ago, when I woke up in Chicago, and thought I was in Minneapolis?”
Jean laughed. “No, dear. Two days ago, you were in Seattle. That was the morning you thought you were still in San Francisco.”
Hannah exhaled a deep breath. “ See? That’s exactly what I mean. I’m tired. I find myself shaking a lot. Five times in the last month, I have almost started smoking again. Too many times lately, I found myself wanting a martini… make that two martinis.�
��
The car pulled up in front of the CBS studio. Jean reached over and put her hand on Hannah’s shoulder to reassure her. “You’ll do fine. Just stay focused, and think about your talent as a writer. That will keep you grounded.”
Jean had been right. As she drove Hannah on to the ABC building, Hannah was just as tired and stressed but was looking forward to the evening,. She was going to hide away in her hotel room near the airport, the airport where she would board a plane the next morning to take her back to Indianapolis for a couple of days away from the cameras, the interviews, and the reporters.
As she sat on the ABC sofa, answering questions that were almost identical to those she had faced in her earlier interviews, she was at least gaining a sense of confidence in her tolerance for being asked unrehearsed questions. This time she was fielding questions from two of the early morning personalities, both of whom seemed charmed by her presence.
She was held over during a commercial break, this being a longer interview than the previous ones. It gave her an opportunity to see herself in the monitor. Now she was seeing herself as a few million viewers were seeing her that morning.
She had to admit to herself that she was looking good that morning. Her long brown hair fell just so over her shoulders, framing a face that she knew had captivated countless males during her 27 years of life. The light blue dress with white polka dots was knee length, just revealing her shapeliness, but not at all too revealing.
They came back on live television, and Hannah fielded a couple of questions about what made her most recent book different from her earlier works. The male co-host hesitated for a moment, and then revealed a sly smile. Hannah was aware that he was a fill-in for the regular host, so she had never had the opportunity to see him in this role, and anticipate his interview style.
The smile still present, he leaned forward and asked, “In reading the book, it struck me that you gave great depth to the heroine, considering that she was only 20 years old. Did you feel that you were taking the character a little out on a limb, when you had her approach her rather new boyfriend to give her a spanking?”
Hannah responded with a nervous laugh. “Well, I just wanted to bring out a more… let’s say… adventurous side of her. I thought that it was a way to catch the reader a bit by surprise, and introduce a little more spice into their relationship.”
The host displayed an even wider smile and laughed softly. “Well Hannah, it certainly did that, but we are out of time, so I will have to forgo what may seem to be an obvious question.”
Hannah blushed to an extent that her studio makeup could never fully conceal, and she felt more than a slight twinge of irritation toward the host. As he thanked her for appearing on the program and made the obligatory wish for her good fortune, Hannah forced a smile and responded with her own expression of gratitude for being asked to appear on the show.
When Jean picked Hannah up and drove her on her way to the Fox News interview, she could tell by Hannah’s demeanor that she was in no mood for conversation. She made only a couple of comments as to how many minutes it would take them to reach the CNN facilities for her last interview of the day.
While the Fox News interview itself went off without a hitch, Hannah had to struggle the entire time to overcome the distraction she still felt from the ABC interview. The CNN program interview took on a more professional tone, with many of the questions asking about the plot of the book itself, and a few others about the life of an up-and-coming writer.
Back in the car, Jean looked over at her new and profitable client with a satisfied grin. “My dear, I watched each and every one of your interviews, and you did remarkably well. For the life of me, I don’t know how someone so new at this could do so well.”
Hannah sighed deeply. “At least during my last two interviews, no one left a question hanging out there speculating as to whether I like to be spanked.”
Jean began laughing heartily at the comment. “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. You cannot tell me that when you wrote that passage, it never occurred to you that the scene was going to jump out as a topic of conversation. I know that you put it there for erotic value, and you must admit, it added to the texture, and the very success of the book. I know it got mentioned in chat rooms all over the Internet.”
Hannah closed her eyes and shook her head. “I guess it just came out of nowhere during the interview. I guess I never really understood that it would get that much attention, in spite of what you say.”
Jean could be heard to let out a loud hum. “Hannah, this is none of my business. I don’t want to get personal, and I’m certainly not a psychologist. But if you are so casual about tossing that scene in, well, perhaps this is something inside you that you didn’t even realize was there.”
Hannah looked at Jean with just a hint of a smile on her face. “Jean. If you have a question, just come out and ask it.”
Jean’s own face turned pink as she approached the turn- off that would take them to the hotel near the airport. “Face it, Hannah. That spanking scene in your novel was a ripe opportunity for someone to ask if you were projecting some personal proclivity toward kink into your heroine. So, let me ask… was it?”
The silence in the car was deafening. Jean looked over to see that Hannah’s face was a deep red, and she was looking down and away. The silence remained unbroken as she entered the hotel parking lot and came to a stop under the canopy at the front door.
Jean looked at Hannah and shrugged. “I suppose that question has been answered in its own way.” She pushed a button under the dash to release the trunk lid. “Have a good day of rest. You certainly have earned it.”
The two women exited the car and walked toward the back. Each grabbed a suitcase, and set them on the sidewalk. Jean noticed that Hannah appeared to be unsteady on her feet. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want me to come up with you for a while?”
Hannah shook her head vigorously back and forth. “Thanks Jean. I’m just really tired. After I get some sleep, I’ll be okay. I’ve just been on such a whirlwind the last month. I haven’t been home for weeks, and I haven’t had one good nights sleep or a five-hour stretch without an interview, a signing, or a reading. And let’s not forget that disaster on that public broadcasting segment.”
Jean looked at Hannah with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want me to hang around with you for little while? You look kind of pale and washed out.”
Hannah laughed as she leaned over and gave Jean a hug.” I feel pale and washed out. I appreciate your concern, but I swear I’ll be just fine after a really long nap.”
Jean gave her another hug. “Get into your room and turn off your phone. Maybe you can fall asleep to some old movie. You take care of yourself.”
As Jean drove away, a member of the hotel staff approached and took Hannah’s luggage, and escorted her to the check-in desk in the large and regal lobby. They went up to her room on the fifth floor, and Hannah was too exhausted to fully appreciate the level of luxury she had checked into.
She did not even bother to unpack. She simply lay down next to the closed suitcase and immediately dozed off. However, she had not been asleep for more than three minutes when her phone woke her. As soon as she was roused, she remembered Jean’s admonition to turn the phone off. In spite of her fatigue and exhaustion, she was still in the rush of the fawning attention she was receiving. Turning off her phone would be like stopping her own breathing.
She answered the phone in a hoarse voice to find that it was a reporter from an Indiana newspaper. In her grogginess, she forgot that all of the promotional material that had been sent out by the publicist for the publishing company had included her cell number. As she strained to stay awake and continue the conversation, she suggested the reporter send an e-mail with a number of optional times for the telephone interview to take place. This time she did indeed turn off her phone and went back to sleep.
Once again, she awoke after a few minutes of sleep, but this time it was not an interruption
by sound or another person. She was fighting her body’s own demands for rest. She was captured by the confusion and exhaustion of wanting to continue the promotion, and absorb more acclaim, applause and adoration.
She closed her eyes again, but all she could see were the visions of her walking up and down the ramps to board and exit airplanes. She saw the endless taxi rides and a blur of faces filing by her with books to be signed or with notepads or microphones in their hands.
She had no recollection of what happened in the hours that followed. She did not recall the wave of nausea and the sensation that the room was spinning. The first thing that she was able to remember was Jean kneeling next to her bed the next morning with a hotel security guard looking down at her with concern as she lie curled up on the floor next to the bedside table. In the days that followed, she had only vague memories of how she ended up in the hospital.
Chapter 2
Hannah stood barefoot in the newly green spring grass as she looked down toward the peaceful flow of the Wabash River. Before she had moved into the small cottage with a faded blue clapboard siding, she had visited the home one time as a child of five.
Nearly every visit with her grandmother had been at her parents’ home in eastern Indiana. In spite of her grandmother having been among the most old-fashioned of the most old-fashioned ladies, the woman had an undeniable love of driving. In spite of Hannah’s parents' offers to travel to her home, Mary Hartford would have none of it. She never had a computer and only grudgingly had used the basic telephone. However, anyone trying to stand in the way of her climbing into her Buick and undertaking the drive, had best be ready for a fight.