Thursday, 20 December 2012

Hot for the Holidays with Lynne Connolly

Welcome to the Clandestine Classics Hot for the Holidays celebration!

Total-e-bound, with great wisdom and savvy, has chosen to "open the bedroom door" on several of the established classics with which we are all familiar. These romances have had a lot of spice added to them and we hope you enjoy the new flavour.

 Please be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win a copy of TOM JONES, along with being entered to win a $50 TEB gift certificate! Wouldn't that be an awesome Christmas gift for yourself?

Have you ever read one of the classics and wondered was happened behind those doors, curtains, trees? Yeah, us too. We've brought you the likes of JANE EYRE, PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, NORTHANGER ALLEY, and others with those thrilling bits included. Well, get your favourite holiday drink and kick back to enjoy a taste of our Clandestine Classics.

Of course today I'm going to talk about my own...TOM JONES.

I succumbed. For years I’ve been reading eighteenth century novels with huge enjoyment. I saw the wonderful film of TOM JONES and not for the first time, wondered what exactly happened behind those closed doors and in the fields, and, well, anywhere else Tom decided to pause his adventures for a happy interlude. The book is incredibly bawdy, and if it hadn't been for the scandal surrounding FANNY HILL, released the same year as TOM JONES to great controversy and even greater sales, who knows? It might have been as open-door as Cleland’s book!
The author, Henry Fielding, was an incredible man. Not only did he write some of the finest books in the English language, he began the movement for a civilian police force and in his capacity as magistrate at Bow Street founded the Bow Street Runners.
His masterpiece is as full of life and its enjoyment as the man. Through a series of boisterous, bawdy adventures, Tom and the love of his life Sophia eventually find their way to their happy ending. A cast of unforgettable characters, including Tom’s wealthy and fun-loving foster father, Squire Allworthy, the round-heeled Jenny Jones and even bawdier Molly, Tom’s first love, start in Somerset and end in London, leaving indelible memories in their wake.
It’s been my privilege to add back the bits cut from the novel, and reacquaint myself with the wonderful world of Georgian England, free of the hypocrisy of the Victorians. They just wanted to be as honest as they knew how and have as much fun as they could!
TOM JONES is out in January, at least part one is, because this is a chunky book. we're planning four parts, each bringing Tom closer to his goal.
So here’s an excerpt from the beginning of the novel. See if you can tell where Fielding stops and I begin!

I have told my reader, in the preceding chapter, that Mr Allworthy inherited a large fortune, that he had a good heart, and no family. Hence, doubtless, it will be concluded by many that he lived like an honest man—owed no one a shilling, took nothing but what was his own, kept a good house, entertained his neighbours with a hearty welcome at his table, and was charitable to the poor, i.e. to those who had rather beg than work, by giving them the offals from it—that he died immensely rich and built an hospital. Always considerate of his health and the people around him, the squire conducted his more interesting business away from home, where his reputation should not be sullied by any rumour that he was less than upright at all times. Indeed, according to the ladies, his uprightness was never in doubt.
And true it is that he did many of these things, but had he done nothing more I should have left him to have recorded his own merit on some fair freestone over the door of that hospital. Matters of a much more extraordinary kind are to be the subject of this history, or I should grossly misspend my time in writing so voluminous a work, and you, my sagacious friend, might with equal profit and pleasure travel through some pages which certain droll authors have been facetiously pleased to call The History of England.
Mr Allworthy had been absent a full quarter of a year in London, on some very particular business, though I know not what it was, but judge of its importance by its having detained him so long from home, whence he had not been absent a month at a time during the space of many years.
This enabled him to pay attention to a lady he had been acquainted with for a long time, but had sadly neglected of late, business having kept him in the country.
Mrs Dickinson was the relict of a city businessman and had a very fine sort of lodging in Red Lion Square, so good that when she invited Mr Allworthy to save the cost of an inn and stay with her in comfort, he accepted with a grateful heart and voluminous thanks.
So pleased was the estimable lady to see him that she found great difficulty in keeping her fichu in place, a matter the squire was only too pleased to assist her with, and, the fichu disposed of, a great expanse of cleavage came into view, something Mr Allworthy took advantage of with both hands.
On tumbling her back onto the sopha, the squire animadverted on the size of her breasts, which had become bountiful in his absence. “Mr Allworthy, I have had nothing to do but eat and visit the establishments that cater to my requirements,” the lady said. “I have long been in need of more vigorous exercise.”
A gleam came into the good squire’s eyes when the lady announced that fact. “I believe I can help you with that ambition, my dear madam.”
So saying, he swept up her skirts, finding the lady, having anticipated his visit, had little more than a hooped petticoat and a shift between her decency and her total exposure to the squire’s appreciative eyes. “My word, madam, you have spent a long time without a man,” he said, gratefully fingering her slit, which had gathered copious moisture to guide his way. Not that he needed such guidance, his experience having given him much knowledge in the matter of women and what they required.
“I’m a respectable woman, sir, and I do not lift my petticoats for a man unless I can also enjoy his company out of the bedroom. I have a reputation to consider.”
The squire glanced up from his absorbing pursuit. “I hope I have not sullied your reputation. I would not wish to damage what you have taken so long to develop.” But he was gratified by the widow’s words and appreciated her welcome.
Taking some of her welcome, he tasted it and found it good. Having done so, he hungered for more and bent his head to her welcoming amplitude. At the first application of his tongue, the lady shuddered and begged him not to stop this side of Christmas. While he doubted he could accomplish that feat, being comparable to the marathon races accomplished by the ancient Greeks, he assured himself that he was capable of achieving the lady’s good favour.
Mr Allworthy was proved correct in his assumptions, and applied himself assiduously to his self-imposed task, reflecting that he had not tasted a woman in a considerable time, being too taken up with matters of work and his duties in the country. A clean, respectable woman could produce a nectar a man could appreciate, even incorporate into his daily absorption, and Mrs Dickinson proved extremely generous in her offering, as she was in every aspect of her life.
Mr Allworthy tasted, and found good enough to continue until the lady’s screams and gratified murmurs gave him permission to expose his desire for her, which he did without further discussion.
His spear proving adequate to the occasion, he plunged deep inside her, mingling their essences with a satisfaction that nearly overcame his vow to bring her to the gates of heaven more than once. Burying his face in her breasts, which she generously gathered in her own hands to offer him, he thought it only good manners to accept and make himself at home in her warm welcome.
His roaring was enough to provide entertainment for the populace passing outside, but they remained hidden to the world at large, as Mrs Dickinson had received him in her first floor salon, using the ground floor of her snug house mainly for business. He had completely omitted to take the servants into his consideration, but fortunately the lady was a good mistress, and he would also see they did not go out of pocket.
Plunging inside the lady’s sweet quim, he did not ask for permission, taking the lady’s sighs as abundant invitation. Only then did the good squire realise how much he had imperilled his health by leaving such exercise too long, for he had a strong belief in the power of good fresh country air and vigorous exercise to prolong a man’s health and happiness.
The lady seemed of similar mind, because she applied herself to the course of physical prowess with great enthusiasm and abandon, having a mind to contest the squire’s ability to keep his course for more than a short span of time.
Indeed, in a matter of moments, the squire gave a great bellow and flooded the lady with all the gratitude she might have wished for, except that her sopha might not be the best place for such action, because it squeaked and groaned with every thrust, accompanying their already loud serenade with a different counterpoint.
They lay, panting and laughing, the lady a willing participant for a second course, once the squire had regained his senses and control over his respiratory faculties.
With such activity, and the business that had drawn him to the city, the squire was well content, but as time passed he hankered for his home, and having satisfied the lady and himself on numerous occasions, in and out of bed, he bade her a lingering farewell and commanded his horse to be brought to the door. In fact, he was looking forward to a period of peace and tranquillity, without the need to service a woman before he could get some rest, because the lady’s enthusiasm for the task occasionally outweighed his willingness to give it.

Lynne Connolly


  1. The 2nd paragraph. I love finding new authors and books to read. Happy Holidays!!!

  2. Yes, you are going to need more than one part. You are doing great justice to this work and am pleasantly surprised at how well you are with the type of words they used ....a real work of gebius...Id say it ecame yours around the second paragraph....and itt slid right in..pardon

  3. I inserted a bit in the first paragraph, and then from the fourth onwards, it's mine.
    But Laura, you were the first to comment, so you win!