Monthly Archives: January 2019

Marital Duplicity; chapter twelve, part one

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Let’s go through the Sabre Form, as much as you know.” Lydia stands in front of me and guides me through the Sabre Form as far as I know, which is two-thirds of it. I struggle through a few of the postures that give me trouble. I am not as fond of the Sabre Form as I am of the Sword Form, but I know that I’ll feel better once I learn the whole thing. We go over a few of the postures that I’m having difficulty with, and within a half hour, we have it all straightened out. She shows me the next posture, then we go through the Sword Form, which is my personal favorite. She gives me a few corrections, which I practice until I feel comfortable with them. Afterwards, we sit down to have a good old-fashioned chinwag. I drink from my iced water bottle and mop my face with my towel.

“You’ve missed quite a few classes,” Lydia comments. “Everything all right?” There’s no judgement in her voice, just concern.

“I know. I’m sorry, Lydia. Believe me, I hate missing classes, but it’s for an important reason.” I briefly summarize what’s been going on with me, and Lydia is properly aghast when I mention Bob’s disappearance.

“That’s awful!” Lydia says, squeezing my hand. “Your poor sister. She must be in a terrible state.”

“She is. She’s upset, and she’s taking it out on me.” I sigh and rub my forehead. I don’t like talking about Jasmine behind her back, but I’m also feeling frustrated by her lack of gratitude. I’m not comfortable by that emotion, but I can’t deny it.

“Why? It seems like you’re the only one who’s doing anything about it.” Lydia is indignant on my behalf, and I’m warmed by her support.

“Because she’s freaked as fuck, and I’m the only one here.” I pause and add, “Plus….” I stop. I feel uncomfortable revealing Jasmine’s secrets to anyone. “She hasn’t been getting any sleep and isn’t eating very well, either. I should see if I can get her to come to class.”

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter eleven, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“She took the money after much discussion. She didn’t want it, but I insisted.” Reverend Yang’s eyes tear up, and I can tell he’s not over Katie yet. He takes a deep breath and blurts out, “Can I trust you, Megan?” It’s clear there’s something burdening him, and I’ll say whatever he wants to hear in order to get him to reveal the information.

“Yes, Marcus. I’m a very good listener, and I know how to be discreet.” I squeeze Reverend Yang’s hand, and he squeezes it in return.

“She’s here. In St. Cloud. With our daughter.”

“What?!” I shriek, snatching my hand away. I stare at Reverend Yang as if he’s spoken Greek, though I’m fairly sure he hasn’t.

“I pay for her apartment, discreetly, and I go up once a month or so to see our daughter.” Reverend Yang continues. “She’s so smart and pretty and just the best thing I’ve ever done.” Reverend Yang’s eyes are shining, and it makes me sad that he’s living a double life because he doesn’t have the courage to be his own man.

“I take it Sharon doesn’t  know,” I say, though I don’t need confirmation.

“No! She would kill me if she knew.”

“Do Katie’s sisters know?”

“No. They all think she’s living in Orange County.”

“Marcus. How have you been able to keep it a secret for so long?” I am flabbergasted. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this.

“Sharon and I don’t really talk, and, well, none of my family are here, so it’s easy to keep them in the dark.” Reverend Yang runs his hand through his hair and slumps against the couch. Suddenly, he bursts into tears, and I pull him to my chest.

“There, there, Marcus,” I say, stroking his hair. “Let it all out.” That only encourages him to cry even harder, which he does for several minutes.

“I really can’t do this any longer,” Reverend Yang says. “It’s such a charade.”

“Marcus, I’m sorry about your situation. I know it’s rough on you, but we really need to talk about why I’m here.” I pull back and straighten my shirt. There’s snot on it, and I’m not sure it’ll come out.

“Sure. What do you want to know?” Marcus is a broken man, and I don’t feel comfortable grilling him, but I soldier on.

“I need to know what happened with you and Hayley Wu. The truth.” I squelch my misgivings, trying not to see his hangdog look.

“Lee,” Reverend Yang says, his voice coming alive. “She was the first woman to make me feel alive in a long time, but….”

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter eleven, part one

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I dress in a pair of nice black slacks and a high-neck red blouse before going to the kitchen to patch together a semblance of a dinner. There’s some macaroni and cheese from the deli, and I make some boxed mashed potatoes as well. I don’t care what anyone says—I love that shit. I toast two piece s of bread, cut up an orange, and call it a day. After I’m done, I wash up the dishes. I used to let them sit in the sink until the flies started circulating, but I turned over a new leaf once I got sick of my own slovenly ways. It’s a little thing, but I admit it makes me feel better when I see the empty sink and the clean counters. I give the cats a few more treats before vegging on the couch for a half hour. Then, I leave to visit Mrs. Yang at the church. Once I’m there, I gird my loins to enter the belly of the beast. Reverend Yang is a malleable man, but I have a hunch that Mrs. Yang will not be as easy to manipulate. I take several smooth, slow breaths before entering the church and heading for Reverend Yang’s office. I hesitate, then I knock on the door. It’s promptly opened, and Mrs. Yang is staring at me with steel in her eyes.

“Come in.” Mrs. Yang holds the door wider and steps backwards. She is wearing a low-cut ice blue blouse and a tight black miniskirt. Her hair is swept up in a high bun, and she looks fantastic. I’m a little puzzled, however, as to why she’s so dressed up. Maybe she’s meeting someone after me, someone of the male persuasion. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t mind about Reverend Yang’s affairs.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mrs. Yang.” I step inside and close the door behind me.

“Please, call me Sharon.” Mrs. Yang places her hand on my arm and rubs. I blink at her. If she were a guy, I’d say she was hitting on me. “That’s what my friends call me. Come. Sit down.” She sits on the couch and pats the cushion next to her.

“Thank you.” I sit next to Sharon, but I keep a healthy space between us. “To be frank, I’m surprised you agreed to talk to me after what I emailed you. Why did you? Agree, I mean.”

“Curiosity, more than anything,” Sharon says, her eyes fastened on mine. “I wanted to see Marcus’s latest. See what you had that I don’t.” She looks me up and down, and a slow smile creeps on her face.

“Excuse me?” I say, sure I’d heard her incorrectly.

“You have bigger tits, true, but I think my ass is better than yours.” Sharon’s still looking at me hungrily, and I’m confused as to what she’s trying to do.

“Sharon, you’re misinformed,” I say, keeping an eye on her. She doesn’t seem angry, but that could change on a dime. “Reverend Yang and I are not having an affair.” Sharon starts laughing, and she can’t stop.

“How did I know you’d say that? Can’t you at least be original?” Sharon stops laughing abruptly, and her eyes are cold.

“Sharon, it’s true. I am not sleeping with your husband.” I stare at Sharon, and our eyes are waging a private war. “I don’t poach other people’s property.”

“Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mind that Marcus has his dalliances—it takes the stress off of me. We have an agreement—we both look the other way as long as nothing gets too serious.” Sharon’s eyes shift from cold to seductive. “I can understand his attraction to you. You’re quite different from the hausfraus at the church. I’ve heard that you swing both ways.” She leans forward and plants a kiss on my mouth. It’s not unpleasant, but I have no interest in her. OK, that’s not completely true, but I don’t want to complicate the matter even further. Then she places her hand on my tit, over my shirt, and I remember how much I miss the touch of a woman. She unbuttons my shirt and slips her hand under my shirt and over my bra. When she tweaks my nipple through my bra, I come to my senses.

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter ten, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Do you know what time it is?” Jasmine screeches as she answers the phone. Bob’s disappearance is really doing a number on her, and I try not to take it personally.

“I have to ask you something. Did you threaten to kill Bob?” I ask, too tired to be delicate.

“Did I what? Have you lost your darn mind?” Jasmine is shouting, and I yank the phone away from my ear.

“I just talked with Hayley Wu, and she said you threatened to kill Bob over his affair with her. Is that true.” My voice is taut, and I’m on the edge. I have been busting my ass trying to help her, and all she’s done is yell at me.

“What affair? Hayley what? I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jasmine’s voice is entering dog whistle territory, and I’m about to blow my lid myself.

“I am coming over. We are going to have a long talk. You are going to tell me every damn thing you know.” I hang up the phone, give a few Temptations to the cats, then leave in a huff. I reach Jasmine’s house in record time. “Jasmine, let me in.” Several minutes later, the door opens. Jasmine looks like hell with dark circles under her eyes.

“Get in.” She yanks me inside and slams the door shut. She barely gives me time to take off my shoes before she pulls me into the living room. She must be rattled because she doesn’t offer me any food or drink. She pushes me into the couch and plops down next to me. “Bob was not having an affair with Hayley. I did not threaten him. I did not have an affair with Reverend Yang. What else do you need to know?”

“Hayley said Bob told her you were upset that they were having an affair.” I frown as I recall my conversation with Hayley. “Wait. She didn’t say they were having an affair; she said you were upset because you knew about them.”

“Knew what about them? He never even mentioned her.” Jasmine has calmed down a bit, and so have I. “Megan, we were having our problems, but I swear to God I never threatened to kill him.”

“Then why would Bob say you did?” I shake my head. A week ago, I would have said Bob was one of the most honest men around. Now, I don’t feel as if I know him at all.

“I don’t know,” Jasmine says, brushing her hair from her face. “I just want him home so I can chew him out! Are you any closer to finding him?”

“I have a lot of information I didn’t have before, but I’m not quite sure what to do with it.”

“The police are no help. They keep telling me if a grown man wants to leave, there’s nothing they can do about it because there’s no sign of foul play.”

“Have you heard anything from Geoff?”

“No. He’s as baffled as I am.” Jasmine looks unhappy as she adds, “He’s trying to be supportive, but he’s getting pressure from upper management to let Bob go.”

“What?” I’m aghast, though I know human nature is what it is. “It’s only been a week, and Bob has been with them for ages!”

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter ten, part one

Posted on by • 0 Comments

For the first time in weeks, I sleep soundly. Onyx and Jet behave themselves for once and don’t sit on my face in the middle of the night. In fact, when I wake up, they’re sleeping on the couch besides me, curled up in a ball. I slide out of bed and take a quick shower. I go through my routine, and by the time I’m done, Onyx and Jet are yammering for their breakfast. I give them their wet food before slipping out the door. I’m early to work for once, but I don’t want to make a habit of it. I focus on my job, then I leave it at the door at the end of the day. I make my way to Mrs. Tsai’s house with the help of Agnes, my not-Siri. I get there with ten minutes to spare, and she welcomes me with a warm smile. I enter her house, and I’m overwhelmed by all the delicious fragrances that remind me of my childhood. When my mother was sober and in a cooking mood, she made the tastiest dumplings. Steamed and fried. I can tell that Mrs. Tsai is making the fried kind—my favorite.

“Megan! Come in, come in.” Mrs. Tsai grabs me by the arm and guides me inside.

“Thank you, Mrs. Tsai. It smells terrific.” I step inside and take off my shoes. I slip on a pair of slippers that are hanging on the guest rack and follow her into the kitchen.

“Oh, please. Do call me Lisa. Mrs. Tsai is my husband’s mother. That dragon lady.” The last is said under Lisa’s breath, so I pretend not to hear it. She leads me into the dining room which is attractively set with good china—for two. “Harry, my husband, is out of town on business. It’ll just be the two of us tonight. Please, have a seat.” She points at one of the seats, and I sit down. She hurries back into the kitchen, and I look at her décor. The walls are a warm marigold, and there are nature paintings all over them. There’s a mahogany sideboard in the corner of the room, and I find the whole effect homey and charming. “Here we go!” Lisa returns bearing a tray laden with fried dumplings, radish cakes, wonton soup, fried rice, and other Taiwanese delicacies. I pick up my chopsticks expectantly, and she serves me a very generous portion of everything. I wait until she says grace before digging in. Radish cakes are one of my favorite dishes, and she makes them better than any I’ve had in decades.

“Lisa. Your cooking is fantastic. It takes me back to my childhood.” I gobble everything in sight, not bothering to pretend I’m dignified or restrained. Lisa is looking at me with an indulgent smile because in Taiwanese culture, there is no higher compliment to the chef than to eat as quickly as you can and ask for more. In addition, we can’t talk about business until we’ve eaten our fair share.

“Thank you. I love cooking, though it’s not much fun with no one here to eat it.” The corners of Lisa’s mouth turn downward, and I suspect there’s trouble in paradise. She might have said she and her husband’s relationship was just fine, but I doubt that’s true.

“Lisa, let me be frank. I’m here because Bob’s missing, and I think your church has something to do with it.” Again, I would prefer to be more delicate, but I don’t have the time nor the patience.

“My church?” Lisa’s mouth drops open; fortunately, there isn’t any food in it.

“Yes, your church. Reverend Yang to be more specific.” I stare at Lisa, and she visibly flinches when I mention the reverend’s name. Interestingly enough, she doesn’t rush to protest as I thought she would.

“Reverend Yang is a wonderful man,” Lisa says slowly. “He brought great comfort to me in my time of need.”

“But?” I say, my ears perking.

“My circle of friends thinks he walks on water. I have a hard time not speaking out when they start singing his praises, but I know they will be upset if I do.” Lisa fiddles with her wedding ring, refusing to meet my eyes.

“I understand. Women can be so cruel to each other.” My carefully curated comment elicits exactly the response I want.

“At first, I thought he was wonderful! He listened to everything I said and was so understanding when I talked about my problems with Harry.” Lisa’s lower lip starts trembling, and I’m afraid she’s going to cry. “Oh, he was assiduous with his attentions. He was so understanding, he talked me out of my clothing and right onto his couch. Of course, he urged me to keep it to myself, which I did. Until Sally told me in confidence that she was sleeping with Reverend Yang. You can imagine my surprise after Reverend Yang told me how I was the only woman who understood him. He told me I was different and special. What a fool I was.” Lisa tears up, but she doesn’t give in to them. She wipes her eyes, and it’s clear that she’s not over the affair yet.

“He’s a very charming man, Lisa. You can’t blame yourself.” I pause, then add, “When was your affair?”

“It ended a few months ago. Three or four months. He started making excuses to cancel our sessions or to delay them. When I confronted him, he just shined me on.” Lisa dabs her eyes with a napkin and pushes her plate away. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

“I’m sorry for bringing up painful memories,” I say, patting her hand.

“My husband was staying at work later and later, and I couldn’t help but notice that his secretary was half his age and had legs up to her neck. He came back with lipstick on his collar one night, and he made some dumb excuse. I didn’t push it.” Lisa looks ashamed of herself, and it makes me sad. So many women put up with philandering husbands, then feel ashamed of themselves for doing it. It’s as old as time, and it’s ruined so many lives. “He finally confessed to me a month ago after she dumped him. I told him I forgave him.”

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter nine, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

I’m feeling out of sorts as I download the information from the flash drive onto my computer. I need to return the flash drive before Reverend Yang knows it’s missing. I call him before I can think about it, and he’s still at the office. I pause. Does he ever go home? He tells me he can meet me any time, so I quickly dress and leave. I don’t bother dressing up—I just wear a plain shirt and slacks. My only goal is to return the flash drive without getting caught, and maybe I’ll use the same trick I used the last time.

“Megan. I’m so glad to see you.” Reverend Yang grabs me at his office door and pulls me into a long hug. I get the sense of a drowning man clinging to a life saver, not of a leering Lothario. Given that it’s not even an hour since I last saw him, I know he’s in deep.

“Reverend Yang. You looked stressed. Anything I can do to help?” I look into Reverend Yang’s eyes, and I see that he’s deeply exhausted. In fact, he looks as if he’s about to keel over. “Sit down, Reverend. You’re tired.” I push him onto the couch, and he sinks into it obediently. To my consternation, he starts crying.

“This can’t go on, Megan. It just can’t. I haven’t slept in a week. I throw up whenever I eat. I never thought it’d be this hard.” Reverend Yang throws his arm over his eyes, and he bawls. I put my arm around him and hug him tightly. He leans against me, and he’s trembling. He needs to talk, and it might as well be to me.

“Reverend Yang, whatever it is, you have to get it out. It’s not good to keep it bottled up inside.” I pat his shoulder, and his tears eventually subside.

“I have a problem, Megan, and I need help.” Reverend Yang says, shifting his eyes off mine. He takes a deep breath and says, “I can’t stay away from other women. I’m sure you’ve noticed.” I nod, and he continues. “I love my wife. I really do. She’s been my bedrock through all this. I just…it’s the chase. I’m addicted to it.”

“Reverend Yang. Marcus.” I take his hand and squeeze it. “You are a human being, which means you have weaknesses. The fact that you can acknowledge it is a big first step.”

“Thank you, Megan. I can’t talk about this with anyone, including my wife. Understandably.” Reverend Yang’s eyes close, and within minutes, he’s asleep. I quickly pull out the thumb drive and put it back where I found it after deleting the files off of it. I look around the office, but there’s nothing else that catches my eyes. I pull on my gloves and quickly race through his computer files again. I want to find something that indicates who his most recent woman is, but I can’t find anything. Somewhere in the bowels of his computer, I find an email from his wife. My eyebrows shoot up because conceivably, they could just talk to each other at home. Feeling like a heel, I read it. It says, “Marcus, we need to talk. They’re breathing down our necks. You need to rein in your dick, and I need to be more creative with the books.” My eyebrows are about to fall off my face. She knows about his dalliances. She either doesn’t care or she’s accepted it as part of her lot in life. That’s hard enough for me to believe, but the fact that she just blatantly states she’s cooking the books is mind-blowing. Wait a minute. Reverend Yang said he couldn’t talk about his affairs with his wife, but it’s clear she knows. What accounts for the discrepancy, or is he lying to me? If he is, why?

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter nine, part one

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Megan, I’d love to meet you for a cup of coffee after work. Seward Cafe at six?” It’s an email from Lee Bradley, and it’s the first thing I read when I get up. I dash off a quick yes, and I’m pleased to have made progress. I get through work with minimal mistakes before heading for Seward Cafe. It’s in South Minneapolis, which means I don’t get there often, but I like it’s homey atmosphere. Lee Bradley is already at a table, and I take a minute to look her over. She’s tall—five-foot nine inches, and she’s got a booty that would make Nicki Minaj envious. She’s wearing a pinstripe suit with a knee-length skirt. It’s clear she’s trying to minimize her curves, but to no avail. Mother Nature certainly took her time with the creation of Lee. Today, she has finger waves pulled up in a high ponytail and big gold hoops. She’s tapping her magenta-tipped fingers on her coffee cup. I order myself a large coffee and a chocolate croissant, then head to Lee’s table.

“Lee? I’m Megan.” I hold my hand out to Lee, and her grasp is firm and hearty.

“Megan. I’m so glad you emailed me. Please, sit.” She gestures to the seat across from her, and I sink into it. I take a bite of my croissant, then wash it down with a sip of coffee. I’m trying to think of my approach, and I decide the truth is for the best.

“Lee. Let me be honest with you. As you know, Bob is missing.” I sip my coffee again while watching Lee’s reaction. She’s nodding, and her eyes are reddened.

“I can’t stand it. It’s driving me crazy.” Lee’s hand is trembling as she picks up her coffee cup. “I did a little research of my own, but I can’t find shit.”

“Same here. It’s mostly fluff.” I sip some more and set down my cup. “Except.” I feel shitty for saying this, but I have to. “We have reason to believe he’s having an affair.”

“Bullshit!” Lee says, slapping her hand on the table. “Bob adores that sister of yours. You can take that to the bank.” She nods her head several times, and there’s nothing but sincerity in her voice.

“We determined her name was Lee.” I keep my eyes trained on Lee’s face, and there’s nothing but surprise on it.

“Me? You think he’s stepping out with me?” Lee flutters her fingers at her chest, and a second later, there’s guilt and/or anger on her face.

“I didn’t say that.” I spread my fingers to show her I mean no harm.

“Nah, but you sure as hell implied it.” Lee grips the edges of the table before relaxing. “I ain’t ashamed to say I wouldn’t have minded, but he was stuck on Jasmine like flies on—glue.”

“I really don’t mean to be disrespectful, but are you sure he didn’t say or do anything untoward?” I sound like a dime store romance novel, and I’m not proud of myself.

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter eight, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Hello, Megan. It’s so good to see you again.” Reverend Yang clasps one of my hand in both of his. He’s wearing a nice Armani suit, black, and he’s quite a dashing figure. I’m wearing a black dress, but one with a high-cut neck. It falls well past my knees, and it covers most of my assets. I have my hair up in a severe bun, and I’m wearing gold studs in my earlobes. I’ve taken pains to look as plain as possible, but it doesn’t stop the gleam in Reverend Yang’s eyes. I sigh internally. I was hoping to do this the easy way, but, no.

“Reverend Yang. Yes.” I shake his hand before extracting mine. I sit on the couch and put my purse next to me. Whatever else he might be, Reverend Yang is not stupid. He pulls up his chair and sits across from me. I soften my tone a bit and say, “I keep thinking about what we’ve talked about. My relationship. The troubles. You know, my sister and her husband have been my inspiration as far as relationships go. They’ve been married thirty years.”

“Oh, yes. Bob and Jasmine are marital role models to us all.” Reverend Yang’s smile is forced, and his eyes are grim. “May we all be so lucky in love.”

“I know you can’t talk about your counseling sessions, but you must know Bob is missing.” I pat Reverend Yang’s hand, and he reflexively squeezes mine in return.

“As you said, I cannot talk about what is revealed to me in my counseling sessions,” Reverend Yang says. His presses his lips together tightly, and I realize I’m going to have to ratchet up the pressure. I start by unbuttoning the top button of my blouse, and Reverend Yang swallows hard.

“I know, Reverend.” I caress Reverend Yang’s hand. “But, it’s just, Jasmine and I are so worried about Bob. Anything you can tell us about it will really help.” I feel a flash of distaste at my methods, but whatever will get me the information I need.

“I really shouldn’t….” Reverend Yang’s voice trails off as I undo another button. I am not above using my feminine wiles to get what I want, even if I don’t like doing it.

“It’s rather warm in here.” I smooth my hair down and unbutton one more button. I better get what I want soon otherwise I’ll be topless. “I don’t want you to breach confidentiality, Reverend, but I’m at a dead end with my research. I need more information, and I would bet you knew him better than most.” I mop my chest with my handkerchief, and Reverend Yang can’t keep my eyes off my tits.

“Yes, well.” Reverend Yang clears his throat several times before continuing. “I really can’t break a confidence, but I can tell you he was having problems with alcohol.” I blink. I know that, but it’s not what I was expecting. I’m also not sure it has anything to do with Bob being missing. “He admitted that once he starts drinking, he can’t stop. I was trying to help him create a plan to combat that.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” I lean forward, giving him a healthy glimpse of my cleavage. He definitely appreciates that, and it takes him several seconds to respond.

“I can tell you he was having a personal problem at work. With a woman.” Reverend Yang places a hand on my thigh, and I let it stay there for a minute before pulling away.

Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter eight, part one

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Morning, Darla. How’re you doing?” I wave at my coworker as I enter the office. I’m in a good mood for no apparent reason, but I’m not going to question it. I’ve had enough days filled with pain, sadness, and grief, so I’ll take what I can get.

“Girl. I so do not want to be here this morning. I had a late night, if you know what I mean.” Darla laughs heartily, her eyes sparkling.

“That new man of yours must be quite something to wear you out.” One thing Darla and I share in common is our high libido. We’ve often commiserated over our inability to find a partner who can keep up.

“He can’t get enough of me,” Darla says, blushing bright red. She’s wearing an attractive sapphire blue pantsuit, and this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her. She clears her throat and adds, “What about your new boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, restraining a sigh. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“You’ve said the sex is great,” Darla notes, eyeing me up and down.

“It is. I’m just not sure I want more.” I power up my computer and wait for it to start.

“Let me guess. He’s making noises about taking it to the next level.” Darla nods knowingly, and it’s another thing we have in common. We both like to be single and living on our own, though I have a hunch this might change for Darla. Her last boyfriend dumped her because she turned him down when he proposed. Even though they weren’t living together, and even though she repeatedly told him she didn’t want any kind of commitment, he proposed. In public. In a restaurant, involving the staff. That didn’t go over well Darla, and she never saw him again after that.

“I’m spending the night tonight.”

“All night?”

“Yes. Me and my cats. We’ll see how it goes.”

“You’ll be moving in together before you know it.”

“Bite your tongue!” I say in mock horror. “You’re making me break out in hives.” We laugh uproariously before focusing on our work. I’m relieved that things are uneventful and that I don’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder. I’m very productive, and Cara nods at me approvingly as she passes by me. I feel like I’m back in the groove.       Continue Reading

Marital Duplicity; chapter seven, part two

Posted on by • 0 Comments

“Reverend Yang. Thank you so much for seeing me. I know it’s late.” I hold my hand out to the reverend, and he shakes it with enthusiasm.

“Megan. It’s good to see you.” His eyes are glued to my admittedly impressive bosom, which I have on prominent display. I’m wearing a snug-fitting, bright red dress that falls just below my thighs. The good reverend’s eyes travel downwards and settle on the tattoo of my left ankle.

“They’re the initials of my best friend,” I offer. “She was…she died a few weeks ago.” Tears spring to my eyes, and they’re genuine.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Reverend Yang says, forcing his eyes back to my face. “Please. Have a seat.” He gestures at the black velvet couch in the corner of his office. His wife is nowhere to be found, and I don’t ask. I sit on the couch and arrange my legs so my dress falls to the side. As he’s distracted, I pull out my phone and place it, camera-side up on the couch in the crack between cushions. Reverend Yang pulls his ergonomic chair next to me and stares into my eyes. Normally, I would find that off-putting, but it’s soothing coming from him.

“I know I only met you this morning, Reverend, but I feel as if I’ve known you forever.” I bat my lashes up at Reverend Yang, and, predictably, he melts.

“Call me Marcus.” He pats my shoulder several times before removing his hand.

“I can’t do that, Reverend Yang. It wouldn’t be respectful.” I lean forward so Reverend Yang can see that I’m not wearing a bra. I can tell he appreciates that mightily as his cock stiffens under his chinos. Something is rising in this church, but it’s not Jesus. Reverend Yang clears his throat before speaking.

“Megan. Please tell me what has brought you here this evening.”

“It’s my boyfriend, Reverend Yang,” I say, forcing tears to my eyes. “I’m afraid he’s…seeing another woman.” I touch my eyes with a newly-bought handkerchief, careful not to smudge my mascara. Yes, I even put on makeup for this occasion. I should take a picture for posterity.

Continue Reading