A Variable Darkness: 13 Tales by John McIlveen

Author:John McIlveen [McIlveen, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Haverhill House Publishing LLC
Published: 2021-02-03T22:00:00+00:00

Shortly before 4 p.m. there was a gentle knock on Chet’s office door.

“Do you need anything before I go for the day?” Anna asked.

“How about a backrub?” Chet stretched, stifling a yawn. With a seductive smile, Anna started closing the door.

“Kidding,” Chet said.

Anna pouted, twirled, and gave a provocative peek over her shoulder before leaving his office. The gesture radiated innocence, but her sparkling eyes and mischievous grin set Chet’s nerves abuzz.

Is she looking for a father figure? Chet smiled at the irony, if that were the case. He and Marilyn had never had children. Early in their relationship Marilyn had explained that she suffered infertility due to endometriosis, hoping it would never become a problem. It never had, and at forty-two, it never would. Chet had no particular desire for children…his own, or those of others. If Marilyn regretted not being able to have children, she never brought it up. Besides, her schedule was always full, practically day and night; she never had time for him, never mind children.

What if he had consented to the backrub, or if he had advanced her? Would she have consented? Would she sexually devour him if given the opportunity?

Then the sobering thoughts worked their way into his fantasy. Anna had been very cautious with her flirting. If he reciprocated and she screamed sexual harassment, he would have no defense. It would create anarchy. His could become the next job opening at EA. Marilyn wouldn’t take well to the humiliation it would cause her. It would smear her shining veneer amongst her trendsetting peers. The divorce would be quick and brutal; tear down the damaged marital structure and rebuild, new and improved—and single—in the blink of an eye. Marilyn could and would take everything he owned to assure she could maintain her socialite ways; she was that driven. Chet would naturally sit and watch it all transpire; he was that passive.

But Anna resided inside his head. I must be crazy, he thought. He had so much at stake: a top-level job, a marriage others envied, and a home he had busted his hump to get and keep. Besides, Marilyn hadn’t exactly slithered out from beneath a rock. She was only thirty-six and reliably turned heads. After sixteen years together—eleven married—she could still arouse him, not that she often made any effort. Would he throw it all away for another woman? For Anna? For a stab at some hot little honey who might end up being merely lukewarm…or even cold?

For all Chet knew, Anna could have peculiar quirks or hang-ups…or maybe hang upside-down to sleep. She could be into BDSM or pain, neither of which appealed to him. She could be horrendous in the sack and maybe think an orgasm is something cultured in a petri dish.

He shut down his computer, rose, put on his blazer, and drifted out of his office. Anna was picking up her purse, on way out.

“Going my way?” she inquired.

“If that’s out the front door, I guess so.”

They walked to

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