50 comments/ 94594 views/ 8 favorites Consequences - Shannon Ch. 01 By: thecelt Consequences-Shannon: The Promise Story edited by LadyCibelle with my thanks for her many suggestions and comments. The story is better because of them. Present Time It was time to go. I had to be home before Stan started to worry. He would expect me by ten at the latest and it was already past nine. I pushed myself up from the bed where we lay together, exhausted by our lovemaking, and looked down on the face of my lover. He was looking back at me, the look of satisfaction lighting his face. We had been at it for the past three hours and I was full of his fluids. I had to clean myself out, wash my face and somehow block the smell of sex without taking a shower. The smell of soap would be a clear signal that I had not been sharing my evening with the three women I told Stan I was going out with on this, my 'ladies night'. I went into the bathroom and began my preparations. When I was finished I walked out to find Marty just beginning to dress. He was single, almost twelve years younger than me and in no hurry. He had no one waiting, no one to worry about lying to, no one to fear discovery from. He was free to do what he would and he was my lover. For the thousandth time, I asked myself why I was doing this. Marty was fun, he was energetic and imaginative and I enjoyed our time together but I didn't love him. I wasn't very fond of him actually. But I had been meeting him at least once a week for the past three months. Just like this, just for sex. I didn't speak to him as I gathered up my purse, my shoes and finally my portfolio. I looked at him but just walked over to the door, opened it and left to go home. I considered what I was doing as I walked to my car, but by the time I reached home, I still had no idea of what I was doing, why I was doing it and why I hadn't ended it before this. I'd had this same argument with myself over and over but to no avail. I slammed the door in anger and walked into the house. I knew something was wrong as soon as I entered. Stan's car was not in the garage where it should be and the house was dark, all the usual lights turned off. I flicked the switch near the door from the garage and the kitchen was flooded with light. I walked into the room, looking around. I stopped by the counter to feel the coffee pot and it was cold and empty. I looked at the wall phone but no lights were lit indicating a message from Stan. There were no dishes in the sink and no sign of dinner. I walked further into the room to look at the dinette where the table and chairs were. As I turned on the light over the table, I spotted something in the place where Stan normally sat. I put my portfolio down on the counter and walked over. The first thing I saw was the ring. It was lying on top of a folded sheet of paper. I saw immediately that it was Stan's wedding ring and I felt the first thrill of fear. I picked it up and clutched it in the palm of my left hand. With my heart pounding in my breast and a roaring assaulting my ears, I reached for the folded paper, now dreading what I was about to read. It had my name on the outside printed in Stan's unique style. A picture fell out when I picked up the sheet. I was afraid to see what the picture showed so I turned it over hiding it from view. I unfolded the note and read. Shannon, I tried to decide what to do once I knew you were cheating on me with Martin Fletcher. Could I confront you and ask you to quit, then try to make things right again? Could I just divorce you and walk away, never looking back? Or should I ignore it, my love for you placed in the background until you decided to return to me? The answer to all of those was no. I could do none of them. I don't know why you did it. I asked myself what I had done wrong but I honestly couldn't come up with anything. Did I let you down in some way? Did I fail you in some task that was very important to you? Was I not a good enough lover for you? You probably would have told me if I asked, but I didn't have the courage: because I still love you. That's what is killing me inside. I can't divorce you and I can't share you and I don't have the courage to confront you because you may tell me you don't love me anymore. So, I've made a decision. I'm doing what I have to. I'm leaving you, taking only my clothes and a few things I need. I won't contact you in any way and I won't tell you where I'm going. I'm not filing for divorce so if you want one, it's up to you. In the safe deposit box I've left a power of attorney that will allow you to dispose of all of our possessions in any way you see fit. It gives you full control. I've taken none of our savings or checking so with your income, there is enough to see you through. In a year, I will make contact with you. You can tell me then what you want to do or what you've already done. The choice is yours. In the interim, you decide how you want to live and whether I have a place in your life. If I do, it must be as I always thought it was before I found out about your infidelity. I can not and will not share you with another man or men. I left you my ring as a sign of my faithfulness during our marriage. It is whole and unbroken, as is the promise I made to you on our wedding day. The wedding ring I gave you, I ask you to destroy. It no longer holds the promise you made to me and it can never be pure again. Stan. I sat down hard on the chair, my legs refusing to hold me, my heart pounding in my chest and the tears pouring from my eyes. He was gone! He knew and he walked out and left me! He was out of my life for at least the next year and I didn't know how I could live without him. Stupid thought now that I had driven him away. Driven him away with my stupidity and my selfishness. And for what? For what? Not a damn thing that meant anything at all! Just for a cheap thrill. The thrill of youth? The need for someone my own age? Stupid, stupid, stupid! In the brightness of the fluorescent lights blazing overhead, I turned the picture over to show its message. It was a picture of me, on my hands and knees, my eyes squeezed shut while behind me Marty was driving himself into me. We were both naked on the bed upstairs. Our bedroom! Mine and Stan's. I had fouled it forever in his eyes and now in mine. I knew then that I would never sleep in that bed again. Never! I wondered how long Stan had known and if he had slept there knowing what I did. I prayed at that moment to a God that I had forsaken with my adultery that Stan never knew. To give me that blessing at least. But I expected no answer! When I promised Stan, in front of Him that I would be faithful, I had lied. He knew of my betrayal to my husband and to Him! Three Month Earlier Stan and I were celebrating our seventh wedding anniversary with a beautiful dinner party at Stetson's Chop House, a four star restaurant in the downtown Chicago Hyatt Regency Hotel where he also had a room reserved for afterwards. We invited some of our closest friends including Martin Fletcher, the agent that both Stan and I used; Art and Janet Williams, owners and operators of an art gallery where some of Stan's more important works were housed; Pete and Lois Archer, close personal friends of Stan and I. We all were close and had been for most of our marriage. Stan was an artist like me, very highly respected, but Stan worked with paints, doing mainly portraits of famous people, commissioned works for those with money and some of his own impressions that he would sell at the Williams Gallery. I was a photographer, more commercial, doing photography for hire: weddings, bar mitzvahs, parties, personal sittings and other more mundane things. All paid well since I was also well known and always in demand. Money was never a problem for Stan and I and we lived well. I had just turned forty my last birthday and Stan was fifty four. We were married when I was thirty three. I had no intentions of getting married ever until I met Stan Mallard. I had gone to one of his showing and we met there. I was mesmerized by him and by his talent. I couldn't get enough of him and I monopolized his time that evening until I believe he finally invited me to dinner the next night just to get rid of me. We found we shared so many things and I found myself falling in love with him. It took him longer to realize that he loved me and even longer to believe I was willing to share my life and my work with him. We were together for almost two years before he proposed. We married and things were perfect. Neither of us wanted children and we both loved to travel and party. We had a large circle of friends and we were never alone. I continued to work at what I did best and Stan took on more well paying jobs until we felt we had enough stashed away to allow us to become more selective. We enjoyed that even more. We were a contented couple but as we both got older, I guess things began to change. Stan began to turn down party invitations that I would have loved to attend. I was less and less content to spend our evenings at home, alone with each other. Our love life had always been satisfying but I began to yearn for more variety as my sexual needs changed as I matured. Stan began to want sex less, always willing when I indicated I had a need but initiating less and less. We still satisfied each other completely but the originality and lust was gone, replaced by a familiar contentment. I never thought much about it until that anniversary party. We had moved into the lounge following dinner and there was music and dancing. Martin Fletcher was there and he was drinking rather more than usual. As the evening progressed, Martin was more and more at my side, talking and laughing and in general making me laugh. Stan didn't notice, spending his time mainly with the Williams. As we were dancing, Marty kissed me, his lips pressing against mine, his mouth opening slightly and his tongue lightly running back and forth against my lips. I had enough to drink to let my mouth open slightly, enough to allow his tongue to enter. As his tongue entered my mouth, I felt a surge of lust that had my pulse soaring and a warmth spreading between my legs. I was shocked at the feeling but didn't pull back immediately. I let it grow until I finally backed away, looking for Stan, guilt pounding at me. As we stood apart, neither Marty or I said anything, looked at anything but each other and finally wandered off in different directions. I avoided being with him the rest of the evening but each time I looked over at him, I found his eyes waiting. The lust that I felt during our kiss hadn't subsided at all and each time I looked into his eyes, it scratched to be let out. I finally found Stan and asked him if we could leave. He was concerned and wanted to know if I was alright. I just told him I wanted to take him up to the room and give him his anniversary present. He smiled and told me he would make our excuses to our friends. When we left, I glanced back to see Marty watching me. I made love with my husband that night with a passion I hadn't felt for some time. I wondered as I mounted him and felt him slide inside me if what I felt was passion for my husband or lust for someone else. As I began to ride Stan, the feelings of lust grew, my climax approached. The intensity of my orgasm shocked me as I came, squeezing Stan between my legs until he uttered an oath of surprise. My orgasm triggered his and we both came with a violence we had not experienced since our first years together. It was only the first as I began immediately working on Stan to bring him back to life. He surprised me by actually getting hard with my mouth on him and then he took control, pulling me up and turning me over to push inside me from behind. I grabbed the sheets and held on as he plunged into me, his hips driving him deeper inside me than I could ever remember. I loved it and I began pushing back to meet his thrusts. He had stamina now and I had orgasm after orgasm before he finally came. As we lay there, recovering from our bout of lovemaking, Stan leaned over me to ask, "What was that all about? I've never seen you so eager. I liked it but I don't know that I can do that very often. It was something else." I looked into his eyes and for a moment, I wanted to tell him that I was aroused by the actions of another man: that he woke a feeling of lust in me that I hadn't felt for some time. That that was what I was feeling when I did those things. But I knew he would never understand. No wife could ever say things like that to her husband. Not and stay married! I decided to lie of course. "I was just thinking about how much I love you and how I love our life together. And this is our anniversary. Time to show you how much I do love you. Didn't you like it?" "Of course. I just think that it may be our next anniversary before I recover enough to do it again. Just plain old vanilla sex for me for a while." He smiled to show he was just kidding but I wondered. As I got ready for bed my mind wandered back to that kiss and the way Marty looked at me. I fell asleep thinking of his tongue in my mouth, sliding between my lips, once, twice. . . . Stan woke me the following morning, telling me to get ready for breakfast and then to a meeting with Martin. We both shared the same agent and had for some time. Stan wanted to begin to slow down while I still wanted to do more. Stan was famous, known around the art world. People talked about owning a 'Mallard'. While I was well know around the area, I was local while he was world wide. I had no desire to become known around the world but I would like to do something special. That was the subject of our meeting. It was strained at first between Martin and I but that soon passed and our meeting became more typical. We finished and caught a cab home. We planned to spend the weekend at home but Martin had scheduled a meeting with a very wealthy man in England that wanted to commission a work from Stan. Stan finally agreed to fly over that Monday to meet with him. I chose to stay home since I had a job scheduled for a wedding. It was a big affair and I would be the primary photographer. It was a plum job and I had accepted some time ago. Sunday afternoon Stan was playing golf while I worked in my darkroom. The phone rang and I answered to find Martin on the other end. "Shannon?" "Hi Marty. What's up?" "I've been thinking about you ever since the party. I can't get you out of my mind. I want to see you." I was caught by surprise. While I had also been thinking about him and the kiss at the party, I had done only that. I never expected he would want to go further. "I don't think that's a good idea Marty. I'm married and it wouldn't be appropriate for me to see you without my husband present." "Shannon please: I need to see you. Meet me at my place. Please, Shannon. I know you felt what I did. I know it! Meet me." "Marty I can't! Stan is due home anytime. I can't leave now. He's expecting me to be here when he comes home." "Then when?" Without thinking, without my brain doing any censoring, I responded, "Monday afternoon. Remember? Stan is flying to England Monday morning. I'll meet you then." "Good. I'll be waiting." Before I could change my mind, he hung up. I did the same then sat there in my darkroom trying to understand what I was doing. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it, but at the same time, my conscience was screaming at me that this was wrong! I fought with myself the rest of the afternoon until Stan came home. He was tired from playing eighteen holes and he wanted to take a nap before dinner. I watched him go upstairs. I knew he would be too tired to make love tonight and that he would be gone for two or three more days before he would be back. Then he would be exhausted from the trip and we wouldn't make love before the weekend. In that instant, I made up my mind that I needed to see Marty. Monday afternoon, I stood outside Marty's apartment. I stared at the door and changed my mind ten times before finally knocking. When he answered, the flashback to that night with him answered all my questions. I was in his arms, naked and aroused before I even began to question what I was doing. Then it was too late. Marty took my nipple in his mouth and began to lightly bite, bringing me to a state of arousal that was so intense I almost came immediately. But before I could get my breath, he pushed me back against the bed and I sat down with my legs spread and Marty's mouth doing things that I could only experience. I know I came multiple times before he finally pushed me back, my feet still on the floor and entered me while he was still standing. I looked up in surprise to see him pushing inside me while looking down on me from above. That was the first time but not the last time that afternoon. Marty fucked me three times, each time in a different position. Standing, from behind and in missionary. Each was wonderful and each was perfect. I gave him a blow job between the second and third times and he went down on me after each time. It was bizarre and it was dirty and it was wonderful! I couldn't get enough but I finally had to stop. I had to get home for Stan's planned call. Marty and I showered, our hands doing more than washing each other but neither of us could do anything more than caress the other. I dressed and left, but not before making plans to meet again soon. That was the beginning of our affair and it continued for the next three months. I told Stan that some girls I knew wanted to begin a girls night out and he thought it was a good thing for me. I scheduled it once a week for Thursday nights. The sex was wonderful, imaginative and wild. It was intense and since Marty was even younger than I, it was often several hours before either of us wanted to slow down. It continued until that evening when I came home to find Stan gone. Even now, months later I still don't know how Stan found out. I couldn't remember any evidence that he knew. Nothing changed in our life together and I never refused sex when Stan was in the mood. I continued to initiate it and I continued to enjoy making love with him. It was sweet, satisfying and filled with love. But he did know and he did leave me. Now all I could do was exactly what he asked me to do. Think about what I wanted and how he fit into my life. I had done nothing else since he left but work and think. I hadn't talked to Marty once since then and I had no intention of ever doing so again. But that wasn't even important. Marty wasn't important. That I discovered in the first five minutes after I knew Stan had left me. All I knew was that I had nine months left before Stan came home. Nine months! Two hundred and seventy four days, two hundred and seventy five nights, thirty nine weeks and one day. Then he would come home. But what if he found someone else while he was gone? What if he fell in love with them and out of love with me? How would I go on without him? I knew already what I wanted, what I needed in my life and where Stan fit. I knew but he wasn't here to tell. He didn't know how much I needed him. Oh God! What have I done? Consequences - Shannon Ch. 02 Almost a year later and Shannon is returning home after a fruitless search for Stan. This is the conclusion to Consequences-Shannon & The Promise. Edited by LadyCibelle with my thanks. Consequences-Shannon: The Promise -- Part two I looked out the window of the plane as we looped out over Lake Michigan before making our final approach into Chicago O'Hare. It had been a long flight and I was just happy to see the end of my travel in sight. The week I spent in Frankfort, followed by three days in Brussels, four days in Amsterdam, back to Essen before flying to Frankfort again and then home had been fun at first, then less so as the days passed until finally all I wanted was to be home in my bed. Traveling was fun for a short time but nothing but work after that. The trip had been part business, part pleasure. The business part was more than enough to offset the expense of spending sixteen days in Europe since I was compensated for my travel. Two weddings, both in old castles that had been rented out, one ceremony dealing with some kind of title given out, and one graduation ceremony: all for very well-to-do individuals. The rest of the time was spent haunting the art galleries looking for any trace of Stan: plenty of Mallards on display with high price tags but no hint of Stan. It had been almost ten months since he left and I was becoming nervous. No word, no calls, no letters, nothing. I had no idea where he was or what he was doing. If he was doing commission work, no one else would know of it. When we landed, I found my car and headed back toward the home I shared with my husband Stan. Since he left I had been working almost twelve hours a day just to keep myself busy so as not to go crazy. I worried for the first six months, not believing he would continue to not contact me but after hearing nothing, I finally believed he would keep his word. After all wasn't that part of this? His word? My word? My word meant nothing as I had proved to him with my affair. His word had always been his bond and he was known as a man who kept his promises. He did, I didn't! I unpacked, scanned the log to see who had called and with no call from Stan, I let it go till later. I fixed myself a small meal, drank two cups of coffee and tried to decide what to do with the time difference. It was after seven when we landed but it was well past midnight according to my body. I finally gave up and went to bed. Tomorrow was soon enough to begin to fit back into my limited world. My first call was to April Woodard, my new agent. Marty was history and had been since that day ten months ago when Stan left. I assumed that Stan had fired him as well so I never even called him to see if he knew where Stan was. I was desperate, but not that desperate. Marty could die and eat shit for all I cared. Not that he was fully at fault but one of us should have been more responsible. I wasn't, so that left him for me to blame. Why the hell not! I knew my part all too well. Let him suffer like I was! But I knew there was no chance of that. He was probably living the life with some young piece on his arm. This was getting me nowhere but it had been my habit lately to let my mind wander into areas it shouldn't. I was counting to ten to get myself back into control when April answered. We talked about my trip and the jobs I completed, then she told me of a job she wanted me to take. It was a showing of a collection of sculptures owned by someone with connections in the collector's world. It was a strange request since these showings were usually private. That was because a lot of the works were obtained either illegally or by dealings with some very shady characters. Either way, ownership was hard to prove. I asked her more about it but she had limited details. She gave me a contact number and a name: James Bergendorf. I didn't know it. She also gave me the quoted price and I almost dropped the phone. "What did you say? Twenty grand for a photo session? Who the hell is this guy?" "All I know is that he's richer than God and he asked for you by name. Knows your work, mentioned several of your better ones and told me to have you call." "You checked him out? He's legit?" "Yes to all." "OK, I'll call and set up a meet. I'll get back to you, and thanks April. Good job." I stared at the contact number for some time before finally calling. I decided 'what the hell.' All I did was work so I might as well make money at it. Not that I needed it. When Stan left, we had almost $400,000 in the bank and over $50,000 in checking alone. Stan's paintings were still selling at the gallery and Janet deposited money almost weekly into our account. I had spent almost nothing the last ten months and made a whole lot more. I guess we were well-to-do. So what? I finally dialed the number, waited through three, then four, five rings before someone answered. "Yes? This is the Bergendorf residence. Who may I say is calling?" "This is Shannon Mallard calling. I was given this number by my agent. I believe a Mr. Bergendorf placed the initial call." "Of course Mrs. Mallard. Please hold for Mr. Bergendorf." I heard the phone being laid down on a hard surface than the clicks of someone walking away. Must be a servant or butler or something like that. Meant money. Lots of money. I was wondering why someone would ask for me by name and throw a lot of money into the deal even before talking with me. Well, some people had more money than brains. "Hello Mrs. Mallard. This is Charles Bergendorf. I'm glad you got back to me. I'd like to hire you for a showing I'm having in two weeks. It will be something that should be right up your alley. Could we schedule a time to meet and discuss it?" Well OK. Sounds reasonable. I could meet then listen to the details and then make up my mind. Maybe someone who knew either me or Stanley or our works at least recommend me. "That would be fine. Where would you like to meet?" "Why don't you come here? That way you could examine the setting while we talk about the contract. I'll have a car come for you, say today at six?" I hung up after agreeing to meet him but in the back of my mind was a small hint of doubt. This whole thing seemed strange to me but April had done her research and found this guy to be the real thing. I shrugged and went back to my work, letting tonight take care of itself. I worked straight through the afternoon and wrapped up with just enough time to get ready for the car. As I changed into jeans and t-shirt with sneakers I tried to remember if I had ever had a car sent for me. That answer was definitely no. Right at six, a limo pulled up in front of my place and I went out where a suited driver waited with the door already open. I slid in, he closed the door and ten seconds later we were on our way. I tried to keep track of where we went but I soon lost all track of distance. I just settled back and waited. Twenty minutes later, we entered what seemed to be an exclusive suburb of western Chicago and pulled into the driveway of one of the large mansions that lined this street. The limo drove around to the back and pulled up under a covered portico. The driver hustled around and let me out, then led me up a short flight of steps and into what appeared to be the kitchen. I guess I was going to be treated as one of the help. As I prepared to wait to be sent for, I was led to one of the chairs surrounding a very large table. I noticed a man already sitting there and wondered if he were the major domo, the one to get me ready to meet the great man. He rose as I sat down and than sat opposite me. I looked him over and was pleasantly surprised to see he was a handsome man, about my age with coal black hair, piercing green eyes, a strong jaw with a dimple in the center of his chin. He appeared to be tall and very lean with wide shoulders and a flat stomach. A man obviously who kept himself in trim. He gave off a slight aura of danger and intrigue. I admit I was fascinated with him but remembered that he was the help. Best to wait to see 'the man'. He was watching me as I evaluated him. He bore it well, a slight smile on his face. As I was about to ask him when we could get started, he stood. "Welcome Mrs. Mallard. I'm Charles Bergendorf. I'm very glad to meet you in person." "You're Mr. Bergendorf? I expected someone more. . . . " "Older perhaps? More stodgy and weathered?" I laughed at being caught out. "Yes, I guess. Please accept my apology and it's nice to meet you as well." We introduced ourselves and talked together for the next ten minutes. I was fascinated with him and found myself listening and responding to his words, while a part of me was appreciating the package they came in. He was a very attractive man! He finally rose to lead me around the mansion, starting with the library and then the second floor room where he intended to arrange the displays. He showed me the lighting, the area to be used for display and where the walkways would be, and in general the layout of the final setup. I took my measurements, recorded the light intensity at several locations and did most of what I needed. It took about a half hour and he watched while I did my job. I was very aware of him there in the background but I kept my mind on the job at hand. When I was done, he led me back downstairs to what I assumed was the drawing room, or the room where guests were taken. He had me sit while he rang a bell sitting on one of the tables. When someone came in, he spoke to her, then joined me as she left. He took a chair next to mine and asked me my opinion of the room and the job he wanted me to do. We spoke of timing, intentions and general items and I got the idea of what he expected. I told him I could do it without problem. He seemed pleased. Just then, the young woman reentered the room with a tray with glasses and a decanter. She placed it on a small table, then turned and left without a word. He rose, poured two fingers in each glass, added two ice cubes, and handed one to me. "Scotch. One of my favorite blends. Please try one with me." Scotch was one of my weaknesses. I loved scotch but drank it rarely. This looked marvelous: beautiful color, good cling and a wonderful aroma. I swirled it, watched the play of light as it flowed then sipped. Fantastic! I raised my glass to my host. "Absolutely wonderful. Thank you. Scotch is one of my favorites as well. I rarely have any this good." "You're every welcome. I'm glad to find a kindred spirit. Have a second, please." I did, beginning to feel the warmth in my center and relaxed. We spoke of personal things then and I found him to be single, divorced for the past five years, with a son in college. He inherited his money but had built on the family fortune rather than diminishing it. He seemed to be involved in trading arts and valuables for a living. Thus the show. Time passed so quickly and it was time for me to leave. He called for the car and then walked me back to the kitchen area. As we walked, I noticed his hand on my arm, on the small of my back, on my shoulder. He kept his hand on me as we stood waiting, and I found his touch to be gentle and warm. I enjoyed it almost too much. I was disappointed when the car came and the door opened. He walked me to the car and the driver left us alone. "I enjoyed your company tonight Shannon. I may call you Shannon? And please call me Charles." "Of course you may Charles. And I enjoyed it as well. Thank you for thinking of me for this assignment." "You are the best and that's what I want." He paused for a moment then, "Would you join me for dinner tomorrow night? Here at the house? I have a marvelous chef who would be delighted to plan a meal for us. Please join me Shannon?" "I'm not sure. I'll have to check my schedule. Can I call you tomorrow?" "Don't call. If you call, it will be to tell me you can't come. I'll expect you unless you call." "Fine. If I can make it, I won't call." "Perfect. I'll send the car for you at seven. Dress casually please. It'll be just the two of us." I slid in, my heart beating a little too fast. He closed the door and we left. Later at home, I cursed myself for not just saying no. I had no business considering his invitation. This was a job, nothing more. But I kept seeing his face, feeling his touch and I couldn't get his voice out of my head. He was so damn handsome, so charming, and I was so much alone. What could it hurt, an evening out with a man who was all the things that Stan was. I missed him so much but I needed company. I finally decided to go and just enjoy the evening. Just a pleasant evening with a fascinating man. Nothing more. In bed that night, I found myself getting wet just thinking about him. I used my fingers to get rid of the tingle, alternating who I imagined between my legs; first Stan and then Charles. I finally fell asleep, smiling. The following day seemed to drag so slowly. I was thinking about Charles and dinner and more of that scotch. I reminded myself that I was still a married woman and that Stan was my husband and that I loved him so much. For awhile that was enough to bring me back to earth and calm my jitters. With Stan, I needed nothing more. But by late afternoon, I remembered that Stan wasn't here and Charles was. As I dressed, I found myself thinking of both men. Stan was older, heavier, not as well toned as Charles, but he was also intelligent, smooth, loving and wise. Charles was younger, more buff, intelligent, and smooth. I didn't know enough to go any further but Charles definitely had possibilities. Not for anything but friendship and entertainment. Nothing more. I would make sure it stayed that way. Stan was coming home in just a few weeks. I had to remember that. In a repeat of last night, the driver escorted me up the steps and into the kitchen where Charles, dressed in slacks, an open collar shirt and a light jacket, escorted me the rest of the way to a small private dining room. He seated me and then sat down opposite as the first course was served. We ate, shared a bottle of a red wine, talking and enjoying each other's company before moving to a small sitting room where Charles poured us both a scotch. I was pleased when he did so, looking forward to more of that delicious blend he introduced me to the night before. As he poured, I noticed again how attractive he was: the tight body, the wide shoulders, the coal black hair worn long, almost to his shoulders. He brought two tumblers back and handed one to me as he sat beside me. "You look very beautiful tonight Shannon. But then you are a beautiful woman. That's one of the things that attracted me." "Thank you Charles, but that has nothing to do with my ability as a photographer." "But it does affect my choices. I want the beauty of my collection to come through and what better way than to have it photographed by a beautiful woman?" "Charles, are you flirting with me?" "Yes. And I would love to get to know you better, more intimately." In the back of my mind, a voice was screaming at me to get up, move away and leave. I listened, but the voice had little effect on me. His closeness, the smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand on my bare skin, all combined to suppress that voice. I knew that I wanted this man to touch me, to hold me, to make love to me. It had been so long without Stan and I was hurting. The love I had for Stan was complete but my passions needed some outlet. I needed Stan but he wasn't here. Charles was. "I don't know Charles. You know I'm married." "Where is your husband? Is he here? I think not. I know he left you almost a year ago and he has not returned. Isn't that true?" "Yes, but he promised he would return after a year. I have to wait. He'll keep his promise, I know he will. He's a man of his word." "But you are alone now, and I am here. It's just you and I and no one around to see. You want me now and no one would know. Just you and I. His word will not answer that need I see inside you. I can fill that need. And only you and I will know." I felt his hand on my bare shoulder and the touch was almost electric. His voice was almost hypnotic and the words he spoke were true. I was alone and I needed more than the promise Stan left me with. And if I fell, no one would know. No one but me. When Charles rose and held out his hand, I hesitated only a second before reaching out. He pulled me to my feet and led me down a hallway into a bedroom with a large circular bed, complete with a light pink silk comforter. I saw it only for a second before my eyes were drawn to Charles who stood in front of me. He reached around to the zipper at the back of the short dress I wore and before I could react, had my dress pooled around my feet. I looked down, my mind not catching up with the events happening to me. As I looked, I felt my bra fall to join the dress. When I looked up again, Charles was removing his shirt and slacks. I watched as if I had no will of my own. I was fascinated by the fingers that deftly unbuttoned his shirt and then his belt and fastening. Like my dress, his slacks fell down to the floor. I reached toward him to help him with the shirt. I let my hands remain behind touching the soft skin of his shoulders and chest. He pulled me back with him and I stepped from the pooled dress to follow. He sat down on the bed and motioned me to turn around, facing away from him. I did as he directed and then I felt hands on my hips as he pulled me onto his lap. I sat, feeling the hard shaft of his erection rest between my legs and the cheeks of my buttocks. His hands moved around to cup my breasts and I let out one long sigh. It had been so long! So very long! As I began to feel moisture between my legs, one of those wonderful hands, so strong and so talented, dropped to feel the heat there. I wiggled in the delightful sensation and began to move my hips when I felt his fingers enter me. I was lost! I had no will left! I came! It was so sudden that the shudder that wracked my body was so strong Charles had to wrap his arms around my waist and hold me as my climax ran its course. I collapsed into his arms and this time he lifted me from the floor and laid me down on my back on the bed. I was limp but the feelings of lust had returned. I looked up at him leaning over me, his eyes glazed with want, and I lifted my arms, beckoning him to me. He came to me, his body lowering between my legs as he held himself up with his forearms against the bed on either side of me. I reached down between our bodies to feel his erection. It was hard and long and full and ready. I placed the swollen head between the lips of my sex and guided him inside me. He lowered his hips then to drive himself into me. From then on it was just his body and mine, joined together in a haze of lust and wonton sexual frenzy. Charles brought me to the peak over and over before letting me drop into that pit of pleasure. I was drowning in a sea of unspeakable delight which went on for hours and hours. I came with abandon, two, three, uncounted times. I felt his fluids draining between my legs and down between the cheeks of my ass. I was saturated with his sex and still wanted more. It continued through the night until we both collapsed in exhaustion. We slept. The following morning, Charles woke me and we showered together, once more joining our bodies in pleasure. This time was more relaxed and more pleasure than pure lust. It was enjoyable nevertheless. We dressed and then went in for breakfast. Over eggs and bacon and ham and pineapple slices with syrup we talked as lovers do and I was disappointed when Charles told me the car was here to take me home. He promised to call as did I. He walked me to the car and stood there, watching as we drove away. I leaned back into the softness of the cushioned seats and dreamed of last night. I was still lost in the pleasure of it all when we reached my home. The home I once shared with Stan and hoped to do again. Consequences - Shannon Ch. 02 It was two days later when I got the message from Charles. It was simple: "call me". That was all but it was enough to make my heart start to beat faster and my blood to heat. I dropped my work on the counter and called immediately. "Charles, it's me. Shannon. I got your message." "Can you come now? I'll have the car there in ten minutes." "Yes, yes, I will. I'll be waiting." He hung up and I raced around, washing my face and changing my clothes, ready for another wonderful evening of soul satisfying sex with a very attractive man. I had no hesitation this time and I didn't even try to fool myself into thinking it would be innocent fun. I knew exactly what I was going for and I felt no guilt. I had convinced myself that Stan would never know and when he came home, it would be him and no one else ever again. So this was a last chance to enjoy what Charles could give me. I heard that voice inside me that screamed to me to think of what I was doing but I buried it with my rationalizations. This was the last time! I was ready when the car arrived. It seemed that the trip to Charles went by almost without thought. I was there! I waited for the driver to open the door and escort me back into that world of unbridled sex and unbearable pleasure. I almost ran up the steps and threw open the door myself without waiting. Charles was sitting there, almost exactly where he was the first time I entered. I ran to him to throw my arms around him and cover his face with kisses, almost like a teenager with her first love. But love was not on my mind. I was surprised when Charles didn't return my caresses. I backed away and looked at him in question. He returned my look with one that I could only describe as sad. He refused to meet my eyes and stood, motioning me to a seat. I took one and waited, wondering what had gone wrong. Charles walked over to a drawer and took out an envelope. He returned to the table and sat heavily. As he pushed the envelope toward me, he spoke. "These are divorce papers from Stanley Mallard, your husband. I was instructed to give these to you tonight. They contain the terms of the settlement and the reason for divorce. In order to spare you any embarrassment, the cause is 'Irreconcilable Differences'. The terms are quite fair but come with a warning that if you contest the divorce, the terms will be modified to include Infidelity." I was stunned! How did Charles get these papers and how did he contact Stan? What was this about? What had he done? I was shaking with suppressed fear and horror. What had he done!" "Charles? What is this about? How did you get these? Have you talked to Stan? Where is he and why is he not contacting me directly? What's going on?" Charles didn't answer. He sat there with his head hanging and said nothing. I had to know! This was not going to happen! I couldn't let this happen! I leaned over the table and screamed at him. "Damn you Charles! Answer me! What is this all about and how did you get these divorce papers." Charles slowly raised his face but wouldn't look directly at me. "I've known your husband for many years. He contacted me here at my home and was concerned about you and your honesty. We talked about it and he suggested I try to seduce you. If you could resist my 'charms', he believed he would be able to trust you again. I have a reputation of being,. . . irresistible; perhaps too much so. I am wealthy, good looking, or so I've been assured by many women, and I have a certain charm and grace. I agreed to attempt to seduce you since you are, as I said, a very beautiful woman. I'm sorry that we enjoyed each other so much since you have to pay a very heavy price for it." I understood now what that little voice in the back of my mind had been trying to tell me. It warned me that Charles was dangerous. I didn't listen! I had no excuse except frustration with Stan. But I was married and I had made a promise. Twice! Once when we were married and the second time when I betrayed that first promise. I promised him before he left me that I would be faithful and never betray him again. I failed both times. It was my own fault that my marriage was over. I had betrayed my husband once and after learning the consequences, I did it again, in spite of them. I was defeated. I had brought this on myself with my rationalizations and my lack of will. Charles was only a tool and a sharp one at that. "Will you please have your car take me home?" "Wouldn't you like to stay now anyway? We could still enjoy each other. It won't affect your marriage now." I was amazed at his gall, his absolute and utter gall. "No thank you. I just want to go home. Please let me go." Charles nodded, left and the car arrived a few minutes later. This time I walked down the steps alone. The driver waited with the door open and no expression on his face. I entered and he drove me back to my empty house. I now knew it would remain empty, just like my heart. I had betrayed my husband and this was the price. Exactly one year from the day Stan left me, the final decree ending my marriage arrived at my door. Stan was the one who delivered it to me. He handed me the package, smiled at me with sadness then turned and left without a word. Right to the very end, he had kept his promise. Consequences are a bitch!