Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

The French Writers Secret

Novel By: Jane Mitchell
Gay and lesbian

Thomas De Claire is a French writer in the 1700's who never published any thing. He meets peasant John who has no one and they conduct a secret love at night. will Thomas be able to keep this up and his career or will the Jacobins take his two loves if if the relation hip is found out
View table of contents...


1 2 3 4

Submitted:Dec 27, 2012    Reads: 138    Comments: 3    Likes: 0   

Chapter one:John and Thomas

A noble's house

-The past-

In 1792 Paris, France French citizens where in their houses and/or apartments sleeping , but Monsieur Thomas de Claire was in his mansion writing with his quill pen in his bed room. ''Seigneur de Claire.'' A maid with brown hair tucked away in her maid cap. Violet his head maid came in and fixed his bed. Thomas vastly dipped his pen in he pulled it out and the black sticky ink spilled on the page. ''Shit.'' Thomas mumbled.

''Monsieur are you okay,'' Violet said jumping up. She was always so concerned towards him.

''I'm just fine my ink spilled.'' Violet held it up over the trash can and examined it. Terrible, it was ruined.

''Oh I'm sure you'll fix up.'' She dropped it in the trash.

In the kitchen the window opened. A teenage boy slipped in. John L'Océan (L'Océan means The Ocean). He slipped in the window and his head hited the pans. ''Damn.'' He growled. He raced towards the food storage. Her invaded it and stuffed his mouth with food. He was poor. He lived on the streets after his parents abandon him. He lived off stealing and hiding from Jacobins. ''Hmm I wonder how the whole thing looks,'' he said looking devilishly as he ran towards the dining room upstairs. A flock of tailored servants walked pass him as he crouched behind a stand holding up a vase. When the door closed, he jumped up and walked up the stairs. A tall man with slicked back blonde hair, blue eyes, and noble outfit appeared from a bed room. He yawned and looked at the stair case. John bend down low enough not to be noticed. Damn this was hard. John waited for the man the go back in his room. Luckily he did. One slam of the heavy wooden door sent him running across the floor. A hand reached out pulling him. John yelled. The man closed the door. ''Who are you and why are you in my house?''

John slapped his forehead and pulled on his brown dusty hair. ''Oh so this isn't my house.'' He smiled dumbly.

''Your very stupid you know. I'm getting the police.'' John suddenly clanged on to the door and scared.

''Please don't sir.'' He begged knowing what the Jacobins would do to him. Thomas could see the pain in his eyes. ''Please.''

''Well then I'll make you an exception. If you be my assistant.''

''In what lordship.''

''No writing and manners.''

''Gross,'' John said.

''Then you'll work.'' Thomas sat down and John slouched to the floor. " I'm Thomas de Claire."

''John.'' John looked at him.

Two years later, 1794

John was now eighteen and Thomas was twenty-six. After Thomas was done with his frustrating work. He would get in bed with Thomas. Yes after years they slept in the same bed and had sex too secretly. He kissed Thomas and they both stuck their tongues in each other's mouth. John stopped. ''Oh my lord you hate this,'' Thomas said disappointed.

''Oh no darling I'm just stressed.'' Thomas got in his bed. John his rested his chin on his chest.

''Your dull.'' Thomas said. He giggled and jumped on Thomas crossing his legs around his waist. ''Lighten up.'' Her kissed him and unbuttoned his shirt. Thomas kissed his neck.

They lay in the sticky bed with John a sleep and Thomas sneaking out of bed to finish his work. He gave John a kiss on the forehead.


I'm still doing Boyz and Ecole de ballet but I'm done with poems and immigrant love.


| Email this story Email this Novel | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.