A Deadly Affair—The Femme Fatale Series Page 5

  My diary.

  Well my plan worked perfectly. I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my entire life; setting up the candles, the rug, the music. When I was taking my clothes off I began to panic that someone other than Greg would turn up. What if Sheila, angry at Greg, decided to show up and assist with the house showing. There's nothing like being naked except for brand-new underwear in a stranger's house to give you the creeps. Especially when your goal is the seduction of a married man.

  Oh God, I'm getting tingly just writing this and I haven't even got to the good part yet. Greg never knew what hit him. Once the shock wore off, the look in his eyes told me I've picked the right man.

  He wants me.

  After my last failed attempt I thought for sure he'd try to resist me again, and he kinda did. To be honest, I think he battled more with his own willpower than anything else.

  God, the way he took me in his arms and kissed me, the way he laid me down on the rug and made love to me. Guilty pleasure is the best. When a man feels guilt over his betrayal it seems to improve his performance in the bedroom. In my experience it does, anyway.

  He still isn't totally into it, though. I kind of hoped for an intimate moment afterwards. I even pictured us, our naked skin against the sheepskin rug lying in each other's arms as we talked, our bond becoming a deeper one than just sex.

  It didn't happen though.

  As soon as we'd finished, Greg dressed and took off like a scolded cat. He made me hang back too, just to give him enough time to leave before I could go. That wife of his sure has a strong hold over him. No matter. I think it's best to let him cool for a few days, even a week. I'm afraid if I push too hard, I'll push him away completely. He obviously loves his wife.

  The bitch. If he'd just give me a chance, I'd make him forget all about her. Then he could be mine with no more guilt, no more running away. He certainly forgot about her today, if only for a short while. I had him all to myself and I liked it. I can feel his hands all over my body. I can feel them pulling off my underwear. I can feel his eyes on me as he looks at my body laid out naked beneath him. After he'd slid my underwear down my legs and gazed at me for a few seconds, he leaned down and kissed my knee before kissing his way up my body, my side, my hip, my stomach, my breasts. As his lips found mine he slipped inside me, filling me completely. He held me tight as he made love to me, kissing me deeply and passionately. Our orgasms were powerful, mine before his. I tried to hold back as one of my favourite fantasies is a simultaneous orgasm, but I just couldn't control it.

  Guilt is a powerful emotion and when channelled into lust, passion, and love making, it's the best aphrodisiac a man can ask for. I had hoped my chasing would end today and Greg would come to me willingly, but I think he needs more time. I'll wait for him. He's worth it.

  No matter how long it takes, Greg will be mine.

  Chapter Seven

  “So, you'll be ready for 530?”

  “I think I can make that.”

  Greg glanced at the clock on his desk. 3:25 PM.

  “Okay. So if you start getting ready now, you'll just about make it.”

  Cynthia laughed. “It does not take me that long to get ready!”

  “Really? Seems that long.”

  “Well it doesn't Mr. cheeky chops. And you just make sure you aren't late again. You've worked late nearly every night for a week.”

  The familiar sting of guilt needled Greg. It had become a very common emotion for him, so common, that a day without its sting would be unimaginable.

  I wasn't working late, I was avoiding you.

  “I promise I won't be late tonight. As long as you're ready for 530 we'll make our reservation on time.”

  “I'll be ready and waiting for you. Just honk the horn and I'll come straight out to the car.”

  “Okay. See you at 530 then.”

  “See you later. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Greg put the phone down quickly, feeling like the world's biggest liar. He did love Cynthia, but another woman now occupied his mind, a woman who filled him with excitement, lust, dread, and guilt. All at the same time.

  Greg liked to think he'd resist Ashley should she throw herself at him again, but he knew he was lying. Though the memory of his encounter with her in the Anderson house provoked feelings of shame, the larger part of him felt arousal. Truth be told, it had been the best sex he'd ever had.

  This realisation had caused him to look at himself in a new light, and to question his marriage. He did not want to lose Cynthia, and the thought of losing her still crushed him, yet he knew his fling with Ashley would not stop until she ended it. He was just too weak to resist her. Even now, as he made plans with his wife on a Friday night, he still thought of Ashley and wondered when the next encounter would be with a mixture of dread and lust.

  For the past week he'd obsessed, he'd worried, he'd fantasised. He could not imagine, nor did he want, a committed relationship with Ashley. When he pictured himself as an old man with his walking stick and flat cap, it was Cynthia's future elderly self he pictured by his side. When he was eventually ready for children, it was Cynthia he imagined as their mother. He'd caused himself countless headaches, upset bowels and indigestion as he sat worrying and wondering, wondering and worrying. Of course, he hadn't heard from Ashley since the Anderson house. Maybe she was done with him?

  The thought brought a little disappointment, but mostly relief. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He considered himself an attractive man but he was no hunk. He didn't turn the heads of women wherever he went. He didn't have the bulging muscles women seem to go crazy for, he wasn't rich. There was nothing striking about him that drove the ladies wild. So what exactly did Ashley want? If it was just sex, she could have her pick of men who would jump at the chance to take her to bed.

  Maybe she got off on the power, the seduction of a married man a huge boost to her ego. Whatever it was, he was tired of obsessing and worrying. The bottom line was the situation was out of his control. If Ashley should throw herself at him again he was too weak to resist. In fact, part of him fantasised about the next time. If Cynthia were to find out about his affair with Ashley, she would divorce him and leave his life forever. His plans to make her the mother to his children ― gone forever. This one mistake could change the course of his entire life.

  Greg was staring at the far wall, lost in his distressing thoughts when his office door suddenly burst open. Startled, Greg jerked in his chair. He relaxed only slightly when he saw Mike standing in the doorway, a sneer on his handsome face.

  “Whoa! Sorry didn't mean to startle you,” Mike said, the grin spreading across his face suggesting otherwise.

  “What can I do for you, Mike?” Greg asked, trying to ignore the twisting cramping feeling in his bowels. The longer Mike kept his silence, the more worried Greg would become. The man was up to something. He knew it. And judging by how overly pleasant Mike had been to him this week, Greg feared it was something bad.

  “Nothing at all. I was just passing by so I thought I'd stop in and see what you're up to tonight.”

  “Why?” Greg was suspicious. Though the question appeared harmless, he suspected Mike was digging for information on Ashley.

  “Just general wonderment, my friend. Why so testy?”

  The two men stared at each other, Greg stone-faced and stern, Mike cocky and smiling. Greg took a deep breath. “I'm taking Cynthia out tonight.”

  “Ah, out with the wifey poo. Anywhere special?”

  “Why do you want to know?” Greg was getting tired of this. He despised Mike but he'd have more respect if he just announced a plan to expose Greg is a cheat. Mike, the cocky self-assured prick that he was, didn't so much as flinch at Greg's words or his tone.

  “Aw there's no need to be like that, my friend.” Mike swaggered his way to Greg's desk and placed his hands down on the shiny oak surface, leaning forward and looming above Greg. “Not if your plans are actually with you
r wife.”

  Greg wanted to punch the smug smile right off Mike's face. He wanted to crush every facial bone whilst hearing Mike's agonised screams. He wanted Mike to disappear and never return. He didn't think he'd ever hated someone this much in his entire life. The smug smile fell from Mike's face to be replaced with a startled look, and maybe a little fear. He straightened up and quickly backed away from Greg's desk as Greg stood slowly, never breaking eye contact with the man whose mission was to sabotage his life. Time seemed to stand still as the two-man stared each other out. As much as Greg would have loved to pound Mike's face to a pulp, he knew the consequences would be high. In addition to the assault charges Mike would definitely file, he'd have to explain his reasons to Cynthia― that's if Mike didn't tell her before Greg was released from police custody.

  This was yet another aspect of his life Greg was powerless to control. Mike could, at any time, reveal Greg's affair with Ashley and there was nothing Greg could do to silence him.

  Unless I kill him.

  The sudden thought stunned Greg and weakened his anger.

  How could I even think something like that?

  And then, the spell was broken. Greg's horror and shame at thinking something so cruel weakened his anger. He broke eye contact and sat back down his head lowered in shame. “I'm taking her to Dantes. And yes, I am taking Cynthia.”

  Mike remained standing where he was, still looking rather startled at the rage he'd seen in Greg's eyes.

  “I'm out with a lady friend tonight. What time will you and Cynthia be there?” Greg gave him a look and Mike shrugged. “Maybe we could all have a drink together?”

  “Our reservation is for 6 PM. And I'd appreciate you not being there.”

  “Now that really hurts my feelings.” Mike smiled, cocky once again as he sidestepped away from Greg's table to the office door.

  Greg said nothing, keeping his head down to avoid looking at Mike.

  “Well, I hope you both have a good night then.”

  “Yeah,” Greg muttered. “I'll just bet you do.”

  Mike hovered in the doorway for a few more seconds before turning and walking away.

  Jesus. What is he playing at?

  Greg closed his eyes tightly and sighed. He wondered if he could convince Cynthia to eat elsewhere tonight. But Dantes was her favourite restaurant and she'd specifically asked to go there. Greg would need a very good excuse to get out of taking her to Dantes, especially since she knew there was a table booked.

  Greg didn't know why, but he had a terrible feeling that something was going to go awfully wrong tonight.

  *

  Mike hurried to his office and closed the door behind him. Truth be told, he felt a little shaken. For a moment there Greg had looked as if he were debating launching himself across his table with his fists flying. Mike chuckled in spite of his tremors.

  The stress of keeping two women on the go is getting to him.

  He made his way to his office chair and sat down. As he waited for the butterflies in his stomach to cease their fluttering, he pondered on how best to use the information he'd just gathered. The whole week he'd waited for this opportunity. He couldn't let Greg's little meltdown in there distract him. One whole week Mike had snooped, listened, watched, and not once this entire week had Greg been anywhere near Ashley. Mike had gone so far as to build a new plan― email Cynthia the video footage of Greg with Ashley at the Anderson house then step back and watch the fireworks.

  The problem was― that plan sucked. He wanted to bond with Cynthia before Greg's affair was exposed so he could swoop right in as the trusted friend, offering support to the broken, horrified and embarrassed woman she would be. If he failed to establish the bond beforehand, Cynthia may not even wish to speak with him, or she may even suspect he'd known about Greg's affair and had chosen to stay out of it.

  To get what he wanted, Mike needed to work on Cynthia alone without Greg there so he could work on the best-guy-friend angle. But this past week had gone all to hell because Greg had stayed away from Ashley. For a day or two, Mike worried that the two had ended their very brief affair and that was the end of it. This would have given Mike no choice but to email Cynthia the footage and view the fallout as an outsider. Tonight though, Greg had thrown him a lifeline. Mike had been suspicious that Greg was taking Ashley not Cynthia to Dantes. He was now sure ,however, that Greg was telling the truth ― he would be at Dantes tonight with Cynthia at 6 PM.

  Mike grinned. When a man takes his wife to a restaurant for a romantic evening, what's the worst that can happen? The girl you're cheating on your wife with turns up at said restaurant believing she has plans with you, that's what.

  Mike made an 'oooo' sound and rubbed his hands together, all but bouncing in his seat. There could even be a fight right there in the restaurant. Of course, his plan to get close to Cynthia first was out of the window.

  Mike shrugged. He could tell her he'd heard about what'd happened and was so sorry and that if she needed to talk blah blah blah. Pulling open his office draws, Mike searched for his black address book and yanked it out once he'd located it. The day he'd recorded Greg and Ashley's meeting at the Anderson house he'd come straight back to the office and gathered Ashley's personal information, including her address. After pondering the situation a further couple of minutes, Mike landed on the most perfect plan.

  Flowers. All women loved roses, right? He'd have a bunch of red and white roses delivered here to Ashley at work (he knew she was working today ― he'd checked) and have a message in the envelope with the roses.

  Mike grabbed his pen and scribbled out a quick note from Greg to Ashley and regarded it thoughtfully for a few seconds before picking up his office phone. He'd wined and dined so many fine young women in his time that he knew the local florist number by heart.

  He received the warm welcome from the store's owner that he usually did and placed his order. He paid an extra fee to ensure Ashley received the flowers and the note before she left work today. With a feeling of true delight and excitement, Mike hung up the phone and clapped his hands

  Gotcha, you bastard!

  He glanced down and re-read the note that Ashley would be reading soon― Ashley, I need to see you again. Meet me tonight at Dantes restaurant at 6:45 PM. The table is booked, love Greg.

  Mike had to prevent himself from leaping up from his chair and dancing around his office. He'd double dated with Greg and Cynthia in the past. They didn't waste time with pre-drinks and talking. They ordered their food the moment they sat down. By 6:45 PM, Greg would have a table full of food with his wife and his lover arriving for their date. Mike fully intended to watch the whole thing, from a distance of course. That's if he didn't throw out his heart due to over excitement beforehand.

  I've really got you now. Let's see if you can get out of this one.

  Chapter Eight

  My diary.

  Oh my God, I don't believe it. So I'm sitting in work today, wondering what I'm going to do tonight since Greg has avoided me all week, when I suddenly get a delivery of roses. Red and white ones. I thought that maybe I had a secret admirer since the last person I expected these flowers to be from was Greg. But they were from Greg! He wants me to meet him tonight at Dantes restaurant at 6:45 PM!

  I'm so happy. I really thought that it was over between me and Greg. I was ready to just throw in the towel and find myself a new man, but it looks like he's finally coming around. Why else would he want to take them to a restaurant tonight? I think giving him a little space worked― it gave him time to miss me, to think about me, to think about our time together. God knows, I've been thinking about it.

  I wonder if anything is happening between he and his wife. Maybe they're fighting or something? Since Greg seemed to be so worried about exposure it seems strange that he'd invite me on a date to a restaurant. Maybe he's left her? Maybe he's chosen me? Maybe that's why he wants to meet me tonight, so he can tell me that he wants to be with me?

  I hope so. B
ecause I really think I've fallen madly in love with him. All I want is for Greg to be mine. All the heartache from the past, all the men who have used me and hurt me then left me, they were all worth it. They all led me to Greg.

  I've kissed enough frogs. Now it's time to get my Prince.

  Chapter Nine

  When a man sexually betrays his wife, he feels one of two emotions: guilt, or a sense of almost giddy excitement. The man who feels excitement is not focused on the deceit and can enjoy all the feelings of sexual power, confidence, and pleasure. He can enjoy the rush that accompanies the knowledge of doing something he shouldn't be doing. He can plan rendezvous with his lover and still look his wife in the eye because he isn't trying to hurt her, he's just having fun. When a man can view his own sexual betrayal from a selfish point of view, he can ward off the sword of guilt, preventing it from piercing is heart and countless times a day with the words 'What she doesn't know won't hurt her.'

  The man who feels guilt at his actions suffers so terribly he completely rules out the physical pleasure his sexual betrayal ever gave him. He can't look his wife in the eye, he can't plan dates, he can't even hold her hand without the feeling of immense guilt smothering him like a heavy blanket. The saying 'What she doesn't know won't hurt her', doesn't console the guilt-ridden man because he knows. And by simply reaching for her husband's hand and telling him she loves him, the wife of the guilty man unknowingly cracks the damn that temporarily stores his feelings of guilt. Once he has restored the cracks, she will cause them to crack open again.

  And again.

  And again.

  As he sat in Dantes across from Cynthia, the sounds of the restaurant unnaturally loud to him, Greg wondered which man he'd prefer to be ― the man who feels excitement, or the man who feels guilt. He no longer thought of guilt as a feeling but more like a presence. A presence that haunted him daily, like the bogeyman lurking inside a closed room just waiting for the unaware to enter in the dark.