Affairs and Other Stories

By D. Jackson

The five stories in this collection contain over 17,000 words, and are written for an adult audience as they
may contain graphic sexual imagery and sexually explicit language.

The stories are: Shame; Homecoming; Great-Grandpapa; Friday at Eight; and Affairs.

The last two in summary:

Friday at Eight: A straight woman out for the evening gets carried away and discovers the following
morning that she's spent the night with another woman, and that she has a date with that woman the
following Friday. Does she keep the date?

Affairs: Jeffery has a habit of dating married women. But he ends his affair with Julie, a married friend of
his sister-in-law, when Julie wants him to get her pregnant. But a year later Julie is pregnant, and Jeffery's in a stable relationship with a single woman. And what happens with Julie and her marriage?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387450480

Book preview

Affairs and Other Stories

Affairs and Other Stories

D. Jackson

Copyright

Copyright 2017, D. Jackson

Version 1.04, 28 January 2018

ISBN: 978-1-387-45048-0

All rights reserved

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission by the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. It is intended for adult audiences only, as it contains sexually explicit dialogue, graphic language, and sexually explicit scenes. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or not, organizations, events, or locations is purely coincidental.

Dedication

Carol C.: editor, proofreader, mentor, friend. To her memory this collection of stories is dedicated. Four of the five stories in this collection underwent her scrutiny. I hope that the fifth story does not distinguish itself because it lacked her compassionate but penetrating insights.

Acknowledgements

The author would like to thank Margaret and Roberta for their continuing wonderful support and encouragement, and would especially like to acknowledge the support, encouragement, and insight of Carol C. up until the time of her untimely death.

Cover image courtesy of marin at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Contact

Thank you in advance for reading my stories. I hope you enjoy them.

If after your reading you would care to share your opinion, please consider writing a review, or if you prefer, I can be reached at: [e-mail].

Other Ebooks by D. Jackson

Sisterly Advice and Other Stories, six stories, 20,000 plus words.

Couples and Other Stories, four stories, 23,000 plus words.

Gossip and Other Stories, four stories, 15,000 plus words.

Matchmaker, one novella, 25,000 plus words.

Choices, one novella, 23,000 plus words.

Advice and Other Stories, three stories, 15,000 plus words.

Blood Art, one novella, 31,000 plus words.

Shame

We had been at the corner table, our favorite table, for over an hour when I noticed her. She and the man with her were standing by the terrace's entrance surveying the available tables. Or rather he appeared to be surveying the tables while she seemed intently absorbed in studying something lower, something I couldn't see, perhaps one of the many plants that dotted the terrace.

She was stunningly beautiful, tall, slender, with shoulder length, straight blonde hair. She was dressed very simply, a plain black dress, short sleeved, scooped neck, and around her neck she wore a black choker.

My wife noticed my staring and glanced up in the direction of my gaze just as the man realized I was staring at his companion. A smile flickered over his face. He touched his companion's arm, appeared to say something to her, and pointed at the empty table closest to ours. She looked at him and then again lowered her gaze.

It's not polite to stare, my wife said, gently chiding me.

Sorry, I replied sheepishly, turning my glance from the approaching couple to her, finding a wicked grin spread across her face.

We stared at each other for a moment, and then she said, You know you're going to pay for this.

What? I said. What do you mean?

She laughed.

We both looked up when he dragged a chair away from the table and seated his companion. Close up, she was even more beautiful than she had appeared at the entrance, pale-complexioned, almost ghostlike, a black leather choker around her neck, a gold bracelet around her left wrist, black high heeled slippers, no hose, and, from the gentle and soft curve of her breasts beneath her dress, no bra. I wondered if she was also without panties.

Her dress was slit up the front to mid‑thigh, so when she was finally seated, a great deal of long, lovely, and bare leg was exposed. But the way she sat was peculiar. Her back was ramrod straight, legs pressed together, feet on the tile floor, arched in her heels, primly together, ankle against ankle,  elbows on the edge of the table, hands flowed into each other, head bowed. It looked as if she were praying.

I looked away, towards my wife. She was still watching. He caught my wife's eye, smiled, nodded. She nodded back, offered him a fleeting smile, and was turning away, back to me, when the blonde head moved, lifted, and turned to look at my wife. Her lips were slightly parted and trembling; her eyes and cheeks were glistening. My wife glanced from the blonde to her companion. He made no further acknowledgment of my wife's inquisitive glance, but rose, and in two steps was bending over his companion; his back made further observation impossible.

Something's wrong, my wife whispered to me.

I shrugged my shoulders, leaned over the corner of the table, kissed her check, and whispered, Maybe they had a fight.

Yes, maybe, my wife began slowly, but ....

But what? I asked softly, still kissing close to her ear.

But ... I don't know, she answered haltingly, while her fingertips absentmindedly stroked my cheek. I thought ... I sensed .... She laughed softly, then kissed me. But you're probably right, she said as our kiss dissolved.

I shrugged, leaned back, picked up my magazine, and said, These wire chairs are not very comfortable.

So why do you keep bringing me here?

"I