Message from a Mistress (12 page)

“Honey, there’s always shades of gray. Find the middle ground, because you
both
deserve to be happy in your marriage.”

Renee nodded even though her thoughts were that happy hadn’t dwelled in her marriage in a long time.

“So you couldn’t convert him, huh?” Jessa teased.

Renee was glad for the diversion. “Listen, my name is Renee Clinton, not Miracle Worker.”

The ladies laughed as Jessa sped them toward Richmond Hills.

Renee sat back on her haunches wondering if her friend had relayed the story of her award banquet night to Jackson. Had that been the impetus for Jackson climbing between Jessa’s legs, or was it just plainly the state of their marriage?

“Now I wish Darren could’ve gotten it up,” she muttered and then regretted it.

Screwing Darren wouldn’t have changed anything about the situation.

Brrrnnnggg
.

Renee jumped up from the floor and snatched up the cordless phone. “Jackson—”

“No, Ma, it’s me.”

Disappointment settled around Renee’s shoulders at the sound of her son’s voice. “Oh, hey, Aaron, what’s up?” she asked, forcing normalcy into her voice.

“Is Dad back from fishing yet?”

Renee closed her eyes and held the phone away from her mouth as she released a heavy breath. That one innocent question from her seventeen-year-old son just kicked things up a notch. If Jackson was the culprit—the fly in Jessa Bell’s web—then he was not only turning his back on their marriage but their family. Unlike Aria and Jaime, she knew she had much more at stake. Much more to lose.
Damn you, Jessa Bell
, she thought.
And damn you too, Jackson, if you’re leaving me for her. If you’re leaving
us
for her.

“No, your dad’s not home yet, can I help?” she asked, wondering if their father was ever coming home.

“No, Ma, that’s all right. It was man-to-man stuff,” he said, puberty making his voice come in varying levels.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. Man,” she teased. “I’ll…um…I’ll tell him to call you when he gets home, okay?”

“Kay. Bye, Mama.”

“Bye, baby boy,” she said softly, reverting back to the nickname she’d given him as a toddler.

She glanced at her Gucci watch. Just after three P.M. The day was moving in such slow motion. Usually the men got back from their deep-sea fishing trips around seven or eight. She would go crazy waiting another four or five hours to see which of the three men came home or for Jackson’s cell phone to be in range.

She had cleaned until every bit of the house gleamed like a showcase. There was nothing left for her to do but go crazy. Sighing, she walked out of the living room and into their study, where there was a twin set of desks for a couple who both had demanding jobs that meant working at home.

It was perhaps in this room where the tension in their marriage was felt most. She couldn’t remember one time when they’d used the office together. He would leave if she went in to work at her desk. Now, if she went in for other things, well, that was just fine. They’d had many a freakfest in the office—before and after she went to work.

Renee strode over to his desk and instantly noticed the group photo sitting there among the various photos of their children. She frowned a bit as she picked it up. Just last month, Aria and Kingston had charted a yacht and invited them all onboard for a day of cruising.

And the group picture taken with Kingston’s tripod had perfectly captured the bright sun, the bluish waters, and seven friends just having a damn good time. But now in hindsight Renee wondered if it revealed just a little something more. Starting from the left to the right, her gaze touched upon each smiling face.

Jaime, Eric, herself, Aria, Kingston, and
then
Jessa snuggled next to Jackson. His arm was around her shoulder while her arm was loosely wrapped around his waist. They looked slightly distant from the rest of the group, and if someone focused their eyes just the right way, they could block out the group and focus on Jessa and Jackson.

Jessa’s long hair was blowing in the wind. Her face was free of shades and the sun gave her natural golden tone even more shine. The white sundress she wore clung to her curves.

Had this been Jackson’s clever way of having Jessa with him right under her nose?

Renee turned and threw the picture against the far wall with all her angry might. It shattered…right along with her heart.

I
was satisfied. The bedroom was at least ready for my man when he got home. The bed was made up with satin sheets that were so divinely made to be fucked upon. That thought made me laugh a little as I took a handful of rose petals and threw them atop the sheets before making a trail with them from the bed and down the stairs to the front door.

I could hardly wait for our first night—all night—together. I was excited like a child waiting for a sleepover—but there would be no sleeping. Not tonight. I was going to fuck my man all night long. Come hell or high water, he best be prepared for the ride…and if he wasn’t physically prepared, I was ready to slip his ass a Cialis/ecstasy cocktail. I would do that and whatever it took to make tonight a freakfest all night long. Just a little something to reassure him that he made the right decision to make that very first move that night.

That first time our hands brushed and we looked up to lock eyes, I knew we had a connection. I fought it as long as I could, and it was hard. I hadn’t felt anything that strong since my own husband. For so long I had to sit back and smile and pretend that I didn’t want him—and that I didn’t know he wanted me. Anytime we were near each other it might have appeared innocent, but the pull between us was there and it was getting stronger with each passing day. All we could share were long looks that spoke volumes about the forbidden passion we had for one another.

Months passed before he made the first move. Right there in the middle of a party as we danced he said, “I want you, Jessa. I know that I shouldn’t but I dream about you. Your soft skin. Your body. Your smell. And the more I see you and can’t have you, the more I want you.”

His wife was just feet away and it made his admission all the more delectable to me. All the more enticing.

My body was warm beneath the innocent touch of his hand on my back, and my nipples hardened into tight and aching buds as his words pumped more life into my soul and my heart and my core than I had felt in years.

For a moment I thought of my friend and the hurt we might cause her. I thought of the betrayal. I thought of the loss of loyalty. I thought of what I would do if one of them had danced with the devil with my own husband.

I said nothing. Absolutely nothing. But my desire must have been in my eyes or in my stance because he looked around before he slowly but surely rocked us off the dance floor and into their kitchen. We had barely gotten into the empty room before he pressed my body against the wall and kissed me.

I released a moan that was filled with hunger and my anguish and I brought my hands up to clutch his face as he sucked my tongue hotly and sweetly. “Yes,” I sighed into his open mouth.

His strong hands eased up my skirt and I shivered as he pulled my panties to the side and stroked my clit like a guitarist before he plunged one finger inside me.

We jumped apart at the sound of footsteps.

I pretended to look for something in the fridge while he quickly moved across the room to the pantry.

She smiled as she breezed into the kitchen, not suspecting a thing, as I shared one more heated glance with my lover as he sucked my pussy juices from his finger.

From then on I knew I had to have him. I had to.

And once we decided that sex was not enough, I knew taking him from her meant cutting ties with all three of my friends. But for him, I’m absolutely fine with that.

J
aime had another secret. One that she’d never shared with anyone. And she knew that particular secret was safe because it remained locked in her innermost thoughts. She used it to help her get through the hell of her marriage and particularly the shame and disappointment of her sex life with her husband. She knew she was wrong. She knew she had to release her secret obsession.

She found it harder and harder to do.

Sex with Eric had become torture over pleasure. Jaime couldn’t remember the last time he made her cum. It had become all about him humiliating her. It brought stress instead of relieving it.

But in truth, Eric had never, ever brought her to heights that her romp with Pleasure had. Playing the role of the pearl-clutching virgin had led to her marrying a man that she’d never been intimate with. She’d made the mistake of thinking his lukewarm kisses would pick up vigor once they were able to take things all the way.

She had been wrong.

And the lack of the passion she secretly craved had led to her monthly visits to see Pleasure. True, she had been wrong to cheat on her husband, but Eric had opened the door with his shortcomings. He couldn’t compare to Pleasure in size or skill. Compared to the exotic dancer, her husband resembled a schoolboy.

When he left their marital bed, Eric had no clue that his punishment had left open the door for her dreams to wander.

One night, after Eric had sent her from his bedroom with her naked buttocks still sore from his whip and her pride destroyed by his words, Jaime had walked up the stairs in the darkness feeling emotionally and physically numb. The sessions with her husband were slowly killing something inside her.

But that night she was determined to reclaim her sexuality and she eventually found just the
thing
to do it.

Jaime locked her bedroom door and slowly walked to her adjoining bathroom for a scalding shower to try to wash away the memories just like that night. It didn’t work.

Still damp from her shower, Jaime searched beneath her mattress for a small key and used it to unlock the chest at the foot of her bed. From beneath the folded quilts she removed a shoe box. Her hands were already shaking in anticipation as she removed the lid.

Nestled atop black velvet was a long and thick black phallus that was nearly the size, shape, and color of Pleasure’s—she’d meant to buy a near replica of him. She had derived pleasure from using the debit card to her secret account to order a replica of Pleasure’s dick from the Web site she discovered Eric used to order the whips and things he used on her.

Next to her shiny new dick was the business card Pleasure gave her.

“Pleasure’s Principles,” she read in a whisper. “For all your exotic needs. Humph. nine-seven-three-five-five-five-UCUM.”

Jaime held it to her nose and inhaled deeply of the scent of him still clinging to the card. She fought the urge to lick it.

He had filled her dreams nearly every night since she had a taste of him.

Tonight it was time to make the dreams as much of a reality as she could.

Jaime wrapped her hands around the dildo as she closed her eyes and thought of the sharply defined muscles of Pleasure’s body and his shaved crotch, square buttocks, and strong thighs. She imagined that the cold molded dick in her hand held his heat, but for now the hardness would have to suffice.

Crawling on the bed, she lay down on her back and spread her legs wide as she drew the thick top from the base of her pussy up to circle around her clit.

Biting her lip, she jerked her hips at the feel of it and arched her back with a deep, guttural moan.

“Pleasure,” she moaned with a shiver.

Gone was the shame and humiliation she felt on the floor of the club when he requested payment for his sex.

Gone was the guilt she felt for hurting Eric.

Gone was her good-girl demeanor as she gave in to a primal instinct for sexual satisfaction.

Gone was the drama of Jessa, her mystery lover, and their text message.

Nothing existed in this moment but how alive she felt.

In her mind, Pleasure’s clever mouth was on her hard nipples. His hands on her body. His dick inside her. His skin and flesh pressed against hers.

“Whoo,” she sighed as goose bumps raced across her skin.

She opened her legs wider and slid the dildo between her thick lips and deeply inside her, inch by inch.

“Pleasure,” she gasped again, twirling the rod so that it hit her walls and stroked her clit.

She was adamant to never cheat on Eric again. She put up with his crap in the hopes that their marriage would get back on track. But she could have the sexy stripper in her dreams. She needed him there.

If only it could be the real thing….

“I knew you would be back.”

Jaime paused as she walked through the door of the crowded strip club. Pleasure was standing there waiting for her. Dick hard. Body gleaming. Dressed in nothing but a mask and a black thong.

In a blink she was naked
.

She said nothing as he stepped forward and scooped her up to straddle his hips. She pressed her swaying breasts against his chest and licked a trail from his broad shoulder up to his ear. “Why can’t I get enough of you?” she moaned in his ear as his hands massaged her bare buttocks before he slipped his thumb inside her
.

“Aahh!” she gasped
.

He turned and walked them to the stage. The audience applauded them as Pleasure laid her down upon it. “Because your husband ain’t giving you what you need, is he?” he asked roughly as he dropped his thong and stroked the oiled length of his curving dick.

“Don’t say that,” she begged as she brought one hand up to tease her nipple and the other down to stroke the base of his dick and his swinging dark brown nuts.

“Why not? It’s true or you wouldn’t be here.”

“But I love him.”

He laughed as he squatted to tap the thick and hot tip of his dick against her pussy. “But you love this more. Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “Yes.”

The women watching them closely roared and Jaime had to admit that it turned her on that people watched them.

“Pleasure grabbed her legs and sucked one of Jaime’s toes into his mouth hotly as he thumbed her clit and finger fucked her all at once.

Eric never had a fighting chance. Never.

Jaime shivered like a fiend and arched her back off the cool black floor of the stage as a fire started to build deep inside her. She was filled with a building anticipation.

“Let me see you play with that pussy,” he ordered, grabbing both her ankles and spreading her legs wide.

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” the audience chanted.

They broke into thunderous applause and catcalls as Jaime locked her eyes with his and eased her hands down to play in the wet, throbbing folds of her pussy.

“Make that pussy cum.”

She gripped her inner thigh with one hand and massaged it deeply as she thrust her hips forward and used two fingers to massage her wet and throbbing clit. “Oooh,” she moaned, absolutely
loving
it. Loving it. “Oooh, I’m gone cum. Fuck me, Pleasure. Fuck me right now!”

“Fuck her! Fuck her!” the audience chanted just as the colorful light above the stage began to flicker.

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, pushing her legs down so that her ass was high up in the air.

She gasped when he dived his dick deep inside of her just as her pussy walls began to spasm with her release. She hollered out roughly, her hands slapping against the floor and her nails clawing the floor.

The crowd roared….

Jaime came crashing back to reality as she free-fell through wave after wave of her climax. “Pleasure,” she gasped, her nipples hardened and thrusting as she worked her wrist to slide the dildo up and down along her walls.

“Good God, I needed that,” she sighed in between pants as her heart thudded wildly.

Jaime’s body slumped with pleasure-filled fatigue.

As her walls continued to contract and release the rubber dick still deeply implanted within her, Jaime rolled over onto her side and clutched the pillow tightly before she fell asleep.

Renee’s chin dropped to her chest. She jerked her head up and looked around wildly at her surroundings. “Huh? What?”

She was sitting on the living room sofa with a bottle of Windex in one hand and paper towel in the other, dozing off. She shook her head at herself as she set the items on the table before rising to her feet.

She had intended to complete her goal of cleaning her house, but the last thing she remembered was sitting down to free the glass insets of her wooden coffee table from fingerprints.

Hard to do when she was drunk.

Thankfully the nap had helped her. Renee leaned back. She had plenty she could be doing, but at that moment the big comfy sofa felt damn good.

To hell with the chores.

To hell with the report she had due.

To hell with her BlackBerry and waiting on calls/e-mails/ texts that might or might not come through.

To hell with preparing for a fish fry that might not happen because one of the bastards was leaving his wife.

“No, not one of them. Me,” Renee said, remembering the look in Jackson’s eyes that morning.

“We need to talk. We
have
to talk.”

Renee knew she should be plundering Jackson’s things looking for clues, but she was afraid of what she would find.

Ding-dong.

Renee rose to her feet and made her way to the front door. She raked her fingertips through the short curly locks of her hair as she opened the door. “Hello, Arnie,” she greeted their tall white mailman of the last five years.

“Howdy there, Mrs. Clinton,” he said, his voice amplified like he had a mic. “Got a package for you.”

Renee stepped back as he set it on the floor just inside the house. “Thanks, Arnie,” she said, eyeing the large cardboard box. “It must be the clothes I ordered for my son.”

“They never stop growing, do they?”

“No, they sure don’t.”

“Okay, have a good one,” he said with a brief wave before he turned and made his way down the walkway.

“Um, Arnie,” Renee called out, following an impulse.

“Mrs. Bell moved to—today,” she began as he turned around to face her.

“Yes, ma’am, we got her change of address form weeks ago,” he said, using one bent finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

Weeks ago
, Renee’s brain screamed although she kept her face calm. She nodded. “Jessa always plans ahead. We’re going to miss her around here, but I know she’s going to love her new house. I can’t wait to visit her.”

“Yeah, Saddle River is a really nice town,” he said.

Renee’s heart soared to pick even that much info from the unsuspecting postal carrier.
Thank God for living in a small town
, she thought as she plotted a way to get her address.

“I know when we went to visit her I was just blown by the whole area,” she said.

“I’m not really familiar with the residential part, but my wife loves the mall there,” he said, placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh my goodness! It makes Richmond Hills look like the projects…especially Jessa’s house!” Renee exclaimed, hoping she didn’t overdo it.

“Well, I’m happy for Mrs. Bell,” he said. “I better get going.”

Damn
. “Okay, thanks, Arnie,” she called out to him, even as she grappled with the disappointment of not getting Jessa’s new address from him and feeling some relief because it would have meant deciding whether to hunt Jessa down.

Renee closed the front door, leaving the box in the foyer, and she made her way to the bar. She eyed the dozens of bottles as she lightly bit down on the side of her thumb.

Jessa Bell had moved to Saddle River, which was just thirty minutes away. The whore hadn’t run very far. In fact, it was close enough that they might run into each other at the right social events.

Renee couldn’t imagine attending an event and having to sit by while her husband was there with another woman. Just as she knew she would
never
allow her children to go play “happy family” with their father and his mistress. N-E-V-E-R.

Renee dropped her head into her hands because she wasn’t an ignorant twenty-year-old looking to give out baby mama drama, and she firmly understood that after a divorce she had no right to dictate to Jackson about where he took his children.

She looked up at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “Surely Jackson wouldn’t try to take Aunt Jessa and make her Stepmama Jessa?”

And that’s why she had so much more to lose and to deal with if Jackson was Jessa’s lover.

Renee felt anxiety flood her. How embarrassing would that be, to stand at the doorstop and watch her teenage children climb into Jessa’s flashy car to head to their father’s love shack in Saddle River? “Oh, hell to the no,” she said, walking behind the bar to grab a bottle of Cîroc vodka.

Renee carried that and a shot glass up the stairs to the bathroom. She poured and then downed two shots out of the never-opened bottle as she drew a bath. Stripping off her clothes, Renee sipped another shot as she studied her own reflection in the full-length mirror.

“Not half bad for a mother of two teens,” she said with another sip as she turned and studied her tall and solid frame. She loved that the effects of her workout regime were evident in her toned arms, legs, and relatively flat abdomen.

She jiggled her still firm and high breasts and circled her hips like a belly dancer. “Humph. I remember when all this had a Negro running,” she told herself, doing a little two steps as she sipped away.

And she knew if Darren wasn’t gay that she could’ve whipped some of her skills on him and had that young man’s nose wide open.

Darren.