Not Black and White: A Hotwife Novel by Arnica Butler

Author:Arnica Butler [Butler, Arnica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

MORE PHOTOS, LESS TIME

Cassandra was encased in a red pleather atrocity that was pushing the boundaries of decency, even if she was in the gallery to play up some kind of twisted retro Brooklyn chic.

“That's obscene,” I told her, without needing to explain what I was talking about.

She puckered her lips into a kiss and kissed me fuck off.

“Mr Reyes dropped off an envelope for you,” she hollered through her nose, once I was halfway to the office door.

I turned back to her, very slowly, my heart beating in my chest.

It had been nearly a week of agonized waiting. Drake had no reason to come in to the gallery, and I had not called him, because I didn't want to reveal how eager I was. But I wanted the photos desperately. I thought about them all the time.

Cassandra was looking down at her desk as I walked back, shifting my briefcase from hand to hand.

“Did you look at it?” I said, and immediately wished I hadn't.

She put one red-clawed hand on her hip and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No. I closed my eyes and took it from him and walked to your office without looking at the outside of a plain manilla envelope. Christ.” She went back to what she was doing, but her interest in gossip overcame her and she paused with her pen in the air. “Why? Is he blackmailing you?”

“Never mind.” I walked back to the back room, attempting to look casual but moving more like an Olympic fast-walker.

A thick manila envelope was on my desk.

It sort of did look like an ominous scene from a movie about blackmail. It was centered squarely on the glossy mahogany desk, in the shadows.

But it wasn't blackmail. It was photographs of my wife, as she 'modeled' for Drake Reyes. Photographs he took of her between licking her into the best orgasm she'd ever had.

I snatched the envelope. It was still sealed, and it had Drake's signature over the seal. What a guy. Professional to the end.

It was relief that Cassandra had not delved into the envelope. She wasn't mean-spirited, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut about anything under the sun. If she saw the photos, the news would spread through the entire art community in under 20 seconds.

I closed my eyes, and tossed the envelope into the top drawer of my desk.

I had spent the entire week wasting time, thinking about my wife fucking Drake Reyes. I needed to take a break from it. I needed to get some work done.

I needed to pretend to myself that the only thing in the room, the only thing in the universe to me, wasn't that envelope and what it contained.

I opened my laptop and stared at the screen.

I felt like the envelope was burning through the desk. The letters and shapes on the screen were meaningless to me, as much as I tried to focus on them.

I wanted to save the envelope as a treat for myself. As a reward for getting something done besides imagining my wife getting fucked by Drake.

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