At half-past eight in the morning, Justin still lay in bed. Too late. Such a bad habit. He’d long worked out the money he made per hour—more than a thousand bucks. He threw the quilt aside
and stumbled into the bathroom. After dressing, he stood before the mirror and brushed a speck off his beard, pulled down his shirt-cuffs, and put on his wristwatch. Looking good, old boy.
Downstairs, he found his wife at the dining room table, heel tapping the floor, her eyes on his cell phone.
Justin wanted to peck her cheek, but the anger in her eyes put him off. Uh-oh. What text had she stumbled across? He moved to the coffeepot.
He lifted the cup to his mouth. “Good morning, hon.”
Katelyn didn’t respond, and other than the sound of the birds chirping and the wind howling outside, everything else was quiet. Too quiet. The housemaids went about their chores in complete
silence. Mademoiselle Rosa, their French governess, placed an omelet before him and left without even her usual, bon appétit. They must have had their fair share of Katelyn’s wrath.
He opened the day’s newspaper and held it close. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Her breath rose in gasps. “What other secrets are you keeping from me?”
He lowered the paper. As expected, she’d thrust the cell phone in his direction. On it was his sister’s text, thanking him for paying school fees for her two daughters and their young brother.
“Oh.” He took a bite of his omelet. “Ah, I thought you knew.”
“How? Do I read minds? Huh?”
He set the paper aside and took another sip of coffee. “Hon, what’s the big deal?”
She shot to her feet and paced. What the hell! He’d just done a noble deed, yet she behaved like he’d murdered someone. He drained his cup and pushed aside the remaining omelet. He’d lost
“I knew it!” she said. “I knew you had secrets!”
He glanced at his watch. Plenty of time still to make it to his first meeting of the morning—hell, a half-hour would do. But he stood to leave. Enough of this shit. “Is this really about Susie, or
something else? I see nothing wrong with helping her out.”
Katelyn’s mouth contorted. “Nothing wrong? Nothing—That money’s for our children! Their future! Not someone else’s! Ours!”
“Mind your tone, don’t talk to me like that.” He lifted his brows so high they practically disappeared into his hairline. “Don’t forget, it’s Susie who gave me a place to live when dad lost his
“That doesn’t give you the right to sacrifice your children’s future. Besides, you’ve already repaid her kindness by finding her a job.”
An icy wind blew past the blinds to the back of his neck and ears like the touch of cold fingers. “How am I sacrificing our children’s future?”
“If Susie wasn’t busy messing around, she’d have gone to college instead of bearing illegitimate children for you to educate.”
“Stop it! Do not badmouth my sister.”
He tucked the newspaper under his armpit, ready to leave.
Olivia, their eldest daughter, came into the dining room. “Mom? Dad?”
Teeth clenched, he managed a smile. “Honey, your mom and I just had a small misunderstanding, but it’s nothing.” He pecked Olivia’s forehead, then patted Katelyn’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I see your
That afternoon, their morning quarrel still gnawed at him. He chewed a thumbnail while spinning his office chair lazily. She owed him an apology. He’d built his business empire from scratch, and
what he spent on his nieces and young brother was pocket change. If Katelyn thought she controlled the purse strings, she was wrong. He needed to unwind before facing her again. He needed a drink.
So, after work, he decided to pass by a nearby club. The Mavericks Club was one of Justin’s favorite bars--no glitz, no pomp, other than a piano player on the weekends, it was a quiet place a guy
could go to have a drink in peace. He swirled the whiskey in his glass, enjoying the chinking of the ice cubes. One sip in and his ill mood was already fading. He sipped again. The aged bourbon
slid across his tongue and burned all the way to his stomach. Damn, it was good. Add to that the quiet background music heavy on the sax, and goodness! So soothing.
A young couple sat at a table across the dining area. Even in the dim light, he recognized the female—one of his daughter’s friends. What was her name? He frowned. Marcella? No, wait. Gisela. He
should say hello. Then his phone chimed—a text message. His wife, wanting to know when he’d be home. Yeah, good question. One he wasn’t ready to answer. He laid the phone on the table and motioned
to the waitress to bring another drink. Ha! At home, she’d hardly spoken to him outside their quarrel. Now that he was out of her sight, she still complained.
He returned his attention to the couple. The young man there said something. Gisela leaned forward. Her reply seemed heated. She stood, wrung her hands, then left.
He blocked her exit. “Gisela?”
She stopped, stared for a moment. Then her frown softened. “Oh, hey! What a surprise.”
"Is everything alright?" Justin asked after they hugged. He shot a sidelong glance at the man Gisela had spurned and recognized it was Ken, his neighbor's son.
She covered her mouth. “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed about the way Ken’s acting.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I understand.”
They both watched as Ken banged the table, stood, and left.
She said, “He can be difficult at times.”
He offered her a chair and motioned for the waitress. “Who’d not be jealous around such a beauty as you?”
The waitress nodded, but he knew she’d be a moment, as more tables had filled, with an associated increase in the babble of conversation and people moving about. Tabletops were cluttered with
eclectic assortments of beer, wine, whiskey... Once in a while, roars of laughter interrupted the chatter. Scantily clad waitresses ran about refilling drinks. Men craned their necks to get a
better look, leering drunkenly.
Gisela eventually got her wine. They raised their respective glasses.
She lowered her gaze and put fingers over her gold necklace. “I won’t be staying long, got some assignments to do.”
Whoops! Caught staring. He sipped his whiskey. “Take it easy, it’s Friday.”
She stayed for dinner and several more glasses of wine, which loosened her tongue. He found her conversation and banter delightful—most, unlike his wife’s shrill shrieks. Space was cleared so
people could dance to the lovers’ rock music now being played. Men and women paired, waltzed, and it was even embarrassing to be seen seated.
Justin sprang to his feet. The floor wobbled before he found his balance—the whiskey had taken effect. “Come. Let’s dance.”
She smiled, stood, tipped a little, then offered her hand. “I’m dizzy.”
He twirled her into his arms. “I got you.”
They fell in step, and he let the rhythm control their movements. Everything and everyone around them dissolved.
Her wide and deep-set eyes sparkled, and a smile stayed on her lips. Heat surged through him when he planted his foot between her legs and dipped her. Seeing her long braids suspended in the air
He drew her close, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I just wanna sleep.”
It was past eleven when they walked out to the parking lot. A gentle breeze pushing through the night’s chill sobered him up. He felt really good, but... Shit! This was his daughter’s friend! The
Her perky breasts brushed against him as she staggered slightly. “Whoops.”
Shit! Those breasts... His conscience went numb. Gisela abandoned herself into his hands, going wherever he led her. He curled an arm around her waist. A current of heat flooded past his shoulder,
down through his pelvis, to weaken his knees. She giggled.
He settled her into the rear seat of his sedan. “I’ll drop you off at your dorm.”
Eyes closed, she smiled. “Mmm’kay.”
By the time he’d dropped into the driver’s seat and started his car, she’d fallen asleep.
His phone rang. Katelyn again. He waited until it stopped ringing and switched it off. It must be hurting her to imagine he was somewhere having fun, instead of sulking over her quarrel.
At her dorm, he all but carried Gisela to her room. Her body radiated heat. Man! His own heat flooded his groin. But the pangs of guilt gnawed at his conscience, and he was keen to set things
He leaned her in the door frame. “Sorry, I got a little carried away. Please don’t tell anyone about us dancing. I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.”
“I’ll tell no one.” She smiled. “Um, please stay a little. I want to talk to you about something.”
His heart raced. “Sorry, I’m so late I got to go.”
Back in the car, he sat silently. Oh, god, that smile! Those breasts—how delicious might her nipples— No! Get a grip, man. But... that smile... A still small voice within urged him to go.
Where? Home. To that nagging harpy of a wife? No way! No harm in hearing Gisela out. She wanted to tell him something. He returned to her door.
His knuckles barely had landed before the door whipped open. “Ah. Come in.”
“So, uh, what, um...”
She stepped back for him to enter. “What?”
She’d changed into a sheer, near-transparent gown. His pulse thrummed. Heat again flooded through his groin. “Oh. Uh... what is it you wanted to talk about?”
She plopped on the edge of the bed. “Give me a few seconds, I need to find the right words.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Take your time.” He bent to sit on a nearby ottoman, saw a framed picture lying on it. “Whoops.” He lifted it. “Almost sat--“
She snatched it away. “Careful.” She stood it on her bedside table.
The woman in the picture resembled Gisela. Older, though. “Sister?”
Her eyes watered. She faked a smile. “Mother.”
“Wow, she’s pretty. Like you.”
She touched the polished wood frame. “She died giving birth to me. I killed her.”
“Oh! Oh, uh, so sorry.”
“Thanks.” She touched the frame again.
Minutes passed in silence.
“Well, you can talk to me now?” He looked at his watch. “Otherwise, I should leave.”
“Oh, sorry, I’m so sleepy.” She squirmed to the edge of the bed. “It’s so embarrassing I dunno how to put it.”
“It’s okay, I won’t judge you.”
“Well… I’m epileptic, and funny thing is, I mostly get seizures when drunk.”
He couldn’t suppress a smile. “Ah, that’s the embarrassing bit?”
“Yeah… But, I mean, the whole thing’s just embarrassing.”
“C’mon, there’s nothing to be ashamed of with sickness.”
“Everyone says that… Uh, I dunno if you can but, I need a favor.”
“Y’know, much as I’m sleepy, I’m afraid to sleep.”
“The seizures… I nearly suffocated to death in my sleep a few years back. We’d gone out drinking. Were it not for my roommate then, who turned me, I’d be dead.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Could... Would you stay? If just for an hour or so? That should be enough to clear my head.”
“Yes. Of course. I did buy your wine.”
“Thanks so much, you’re so kind.” She slid under the duvet. “Just in case I start shaking or stuttering, hold my head for a while and I’ll be fine.”
Justin couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts, which rose and fell between her gentle snuffles. Wrapped in profound sleep, she’d hug the pillow, then roll her slender body from one side to the
other... He even found her snoring sweet. God, how old was she? It was like she’d not shared her bed with anyone by the way she threw her legs all over, peeling up her gown.
Oh, damn it, look at—The room spun. His dizziness surged. The smooth line of her legs peeking from under the covers sent his imagination to forbidden places. The curve of her body made his blood
run hot. His cock hardened.
She stirred a little, and the stuttering began. He sat close and cuddled her head. Her body twitched all over.
Then she jerked from his hands and sat up. She blinked. “Whu—Who—who are you?”
He raised his hands. “Hey. It’s okay. It’s me. Justin. You know, Olivia’s father?”
She blinked again. Beads of sweat gathered on her forehead. Her breathing slowed. “Oh, you scared me. Was— Was I shaking?”
“Yes, and stuttered—”
“Thank you.” She grabbed his hand. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure, of course.” After all, I gave you the wine...”
She softened her grip, and her panting increased. “Err, I-I I don’t want you to go.” Her lips closed the distance to his. “Don’t leave me alone, please, please— “
He leaned away. “No, I really should go, I—.”
She grabbed his shirt, but gently. Pulled him back. “No, wait. Please. I— I want to know--“
“Gisela.” He could barely talk.
“Show me. What it’s like. A man like you—“ She kissed him again and grabbed his cock.
His heart hammered. “Gisela, please, I’m—married, and much older.” But her next kiss was deeper, with more heat.
“I don’t care; I’ve always found you attractive. Show me. Show me.” She held the hem of her gown and slipped it over her head. Then, she locked her lips with his.
Helpless, he let his tongue seek hers, dance with hers, taste hers... Her hand fell on his thigh and she started unzipping his pants.
The way she growled those words! His hands sought the curves and contours of her body, and he was lost... He began to stroke her with his lips and tongue.
“I want you badly,” she said, guiding his hands to her nipples.
“This is wrong,” he whispered.
“Shhh, it’s all right, don’t worry, just relax.”
He was slow, rhythmic, gentle, moving down her body, down…
“Oh.” She sighed, panted, and moaned.
A sweet spasm cut through his body. She ripped his shirt off, tossed it on the floor, and removed her bra. “Fuck me.”
“You don't have epilepsy, do you?”
She slid her panties off. “No.”
He kissed her neck, down her throat, then covered one peaked nipple with his mouth and gently sucked. She moaned and ran her hands over his shoulders...clasped his head to hold him in place. A few
seconds later, he moved to the other nipple.
Then down her tummy, lower still, to her womanhood…
She gasped and flattened herself on the bed. Parting her legs, she pressed herself hard against him.
When Justin woke up the next morning, the hideousness of cheating on his wife stared him right in the face. He felt guilty, but couldn’t help but think about how Gisela felt and how he felt inside
her. How tight she was. How eager she was. How she gave herself to him so freely. This made him feel pretty much of a stud since she was the one who seduced him...and at least this feeling pushed
aside his guilt, but only for a while.
“Oh, no…!” He whispered, tossing around.
He looked at Gisela, fast asleep, and remembered her friendship with Olivia. What he’d done was wrong; Gisela was young, a family friend and he was a married man. He felt worse than a grotesque
He shoved the duvet aside and sat upright, ready to leave.
“Damn it.” He cursed, beholding his nudity.
The realization of how low he’d stooped sunk in.
I should have left after dropping her… I shouldn’t have entered her room. It was wrong of me….
Flesh will always be flesh, he poignantly remembered Father Anthony’s sermon of the previous day. “A spark neglected can burn down a forest. And so it is with big falls. Think of King
David! It all started with an inappropriate glance at a woman, then murder and adultery.”
If only I had not entered her room…
She roused and rolled to face him.
He picked up his pants and his cell phone fell out of the pocket. Staring at the screen, his heart raced. Thirty-two missed calls. Twenty-eight from Katelyn and four from his friend Ambrose.
“Damn it, damn it!” He muttered.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and sat up, holding the sheet around her upper body. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “This was a mistake. I need to leave.” He reached for his pants again.
“Wait,” she said. “Don’t go.”
He turned to face her. Sunlight sliced through the blinds casting the room in an amber glow. She drew a deep breath and dropped the sheet. God, she was so beautiful. Skin like satin. Dark hair
brushing her shoulders. Lips begging to be kissed. She leaned back, rested on her elbows, and stretched out her legs.
“Come back to bed,” she whispered.
And just like that, nothing mattered but making love to her again.
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