From Prelude to Adultery: Forbidden Affair
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
From Prelude to Adultery:
Forbidden Affair
A forbidden affair blurs the lines of loyalty and love
An Interracial Cuckold Tale
Mary Not Wollstonecraft
Bookapy User License
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Bookapy.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
© Copyright 2024 by Mary Not Wollstonecraft
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This tale is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously—any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, real events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
From Prelude to Adultery:
Forbidden Affair
Present Day, Denver, Colorado
Claretta’s heart skipped a beat as the firmness of an unexpected shoulder collided with her own, jostling the coffee in her hand. A drop splashed over the rim, missing the cream-colored sleeve of her silk blouse by the narrowest of margins. She looked up into the man’s deep brown eyes, now steadying her elbow, an apologetic smile gracing his lips.
“Sorry about that,” he said, voice smooth and warm.
“Quite alright,” Claretta said, her soft voice carrying an unexpected tremor. The man was her supervisor at the ad agency where she worked. “I should’ve looked where I was going.”
“Allow me to make it up to you by keeping you company?” Andres suggested, gesturing to the empty chair across from her at the table outside Cafe Bliss.
“Until my husband arrives, I suppose that’d be fine,” she said. Tucking a stray red lock behind her ear, her green eyes alight with a spark of mischief she hadn’t felt in years. She glanced away in coy embarrassment.
Andres eased into the seat, exuding a confidence that made Claretta’s stomach flutter. His compliments began almost immediately, each delivered with a sincerity that caused her cheeks to bloom with color.
“Your hair is like autumn itself,” Andres said. His eyes locked on her brilliant fire-red waves of hair that cascaded around her lovely ace. “And your eyes… they’re like emeralds. You must hear this all the time.”
“Thank you,” she said in a soft murmur, a bashful but seductive smile on her lips. “You’re too kind.”
“Kind? No,” he said. “Just honest. Your husband must know how lucky he is to have you.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” she said, almost to herself. A stirring inside shocked her.
Their conversation ebbed and flowed like a gentle tide, Andres’s flirty banter lapping at the shores of Claretta’s composure. With every compliment, she inched closer to the edge. Her responses held a tinge of coyness flirtation she hadn’t realized she was capable of.
It had been so long since another man flirted with her.
She caught herself glancing away. Only to be drawn back by the gravity of Andres’s gaze. Returning the stare with curiosity and a hint of challenge. In those fleeting moments, the world beyond their small orbit seemed to blur into insignificance. Here was a man with warm, inviting eyes, and she was the woman yearning for something more.
The buzz of Claretta’s phone against the cafe table sliced through the hum of idle chatter and the clink of porcelain. She glimpsed down. Her fingers hesitated above the glowing screen before swiping a finger across the flashing word Ethan. The message from her husband, brief and apologetic, cast a shadow over the warm cocoon she’d found herself wrapped in with Andres.
“Looks like I’m all yours for lunch after all,” she said, her voice tinged with disappointment that didn’t reach her eyes. “He’s tied up with that trial.”
Andres’ expression softened, a mingling of concern and opportunity. He slid his chair around the small table, closing the distance between them with a grace that felt almost predatory. “No, sweetheart, just your company,” he murmured, his breath warm on her cheek as he leaned closer.
Claretta found herself caught in the ambiguous space where politeness ended and desire began. The thrill of the moment, the attention—she craved it, even as her mind whispered caution.
“Isn’t this… I mean, my husband…” Her protest was feeble, a token effort drowned out by the pitter-patter of her heart.
“What about him?” Andres countered, voice low and confident. He reached across the table, and his hand brushed hers. Andres’s touch sent a ripple of anticipation from her arm to her brain and down to lower, more private regions. “What does that matter right now?”
She should’ve pulled away. She should’ve ended this dance of words and fleeting touches that promised more than she had bargained for. Instead, Claretta leaned into the warmth of his hand, her wedding band a cold reminder against her skin.
“Nothing,” she said as she breathed in deep. Surrendering to the moment, to Andres and his bold gaze that stripped away her insecurities and laid bare her longing for something more.
Andres’s arm slipped around Claretta’s waist with a possessive ease that spoke of confidence and intent. In sharp contrast to the chill in the spring air, the warmth of his body warmed hers. She felt his fingers against the fabric of her dress, hinting at a closeness that was forbidden, stimulating, and unfamiliar of late.
“Your company is all I want,” Andres whispered, his low timbre vibrating through Claretta’s being. As Andres spoke, his breath surged across her ear, and this sent shivers cascading around inside her.
Claretta’s thoughts were a mess of angst and longing. But as his arm tightened, pulling her closer, her resistance crumbled like the delicate crust of a well-baked pastry. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy of what it would be like to be wanted, cherished, and even. Without the shadow of inadequacy, which seemed to loom over her marital bed.
“Perhaps we should get back,” she said, her voice betraying her reluctance at breaking contact.
“Of course, baby girl,” Andres replied, his words laced with an undercurrent of promise. With a slow, deliberate motion, he released her, which seemed more of a caress than a retreat.
They left Cafe Bliss. The mundane of the world jarred against the charged atmosphere that cocooned them. They walked side by side, close enough that their hands brushed on several occasions. Only a whisper of contact kept the ember of their fledgling connection alive.
Reaching the sleek building where Claretta worked, she led the way inside, acutely aware of Andres’s presence behind her. His proximity was a magnetic force she found herself unable to escape. As they rode the elevator up to her floor, the mirrored walls reflected an image of them that seemed to belong to another narrative—one where her life wasn’t predetermined by vows and expectations.
“Here we are,” Claretta said as they stepped to her office floor. The corporate ambiance was a stark contrast to the intimacy of the cafe.
“I’ll just… settle in here,” she murmured, gesturing to her office door, which stood ajar. The space beyond beckoned—a sanctuary where she could regain composure.
“Mind if I keep you company a little while?” Andres asked, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather rather than the charged undercurrents of desire.
“Um, sure,” Claretta stuttered, her resolve dissolving like sugar in hot tea. She pushed the door open fully and stepped inside, feeling the weight of his gaze on her as she moved.
Claretta’s office was her domain of solitude. Her private place of creativity and structure. With Andres there, it took on an additional dimension, with something of the unknown pestering her. It became an arena where the lines between professional and personal blurred. Where the possibility of surrendering to something primal and urgent loomed large.
“Nice place,” Andres said, looking around before his eyes settled back on her. “Very… you to a T.”
“Thank… um… thank you,” Claretta responded, her soft voice betraying the storm of feelings Andres’s presence stirred within her.
“Let’s sit,” he said. Pointing to the small couch in the corner of her office. A piece of furniture meant for brief client consultations never intended for moments like this.
The distance between them was minimal as they sat, the electric charge of potential impropriety threading the air. Claretta knew she should maintain a professional demeanor. But professionalism was the furthest thing from her mind, with Andres so close.
Claretta’s breath caught in her throat as Andres’s lips brushed her earlobe, his warm whisper leaving a trail of shivers down her spine.
“You’re intoxicating,” he said, each word a velvet caress against her skin.
She leaned back into the plush embrace of the couch, her body seeking more of his touch on an unconscious level. Andres’s fingers followed the curve of her shoulder, gliding down. His touch, light as it was, agitated and thrilled her through the fabric of her blouse. Claretta closed her eyes, her senses awash with conflicting emotions. All crowded together guilt, desire, the thrill of the forbidden. As she turned and faced him, Andres’s lips met hers in a tentative, flirtatious kiss, which quickly deepened into something more.
Claretta’s shared kiss was an admission of built-up yearnings freed within her. Andres was attentive, his lips and hands speaking a language her body understood all too well. Claretta responded passionately. Claretta ran her fingers through his hair, pulled him to her, so very desperate to be closer. The world beyond this interlude faded away. Leaving only the sound of their mingled breaths and the soft rustle of clothing as they explored each other.
A sudden, intrusive vibration shattered the moment. Claretta’s phone lit up on her desk, its screen flashing Ethan’s name. Her heart stuttered, guilt flooding her senses like ice water. She pulled away from Andres with a ragged inhale, reaching for the device with shaking hands.
“Hello?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, the remnants of her arousal apparent even to her own ears.
“Hey, Claretta,” Ethan said. His meek voice was almost too soft to hear through the speaker.
She could almost see him hesitating, that apologetic tilt to his words as he spoke.
“I’m… I’m sorry. Something’s come up with the trial. An impeachment witness threw us a curveball.”
“Are you okay?” Claretta asked, her concern genuine despite the flush of shame creeping up her neck.
“Yeah, it’s just… I won’t be home tonight. Probably not until late, if at all. We must strategize, and I’ll likely crash on my office couch.”
Ethan’s admission carried a weight of defeat, which seemed to always cling to him like a second skin.
“Sweetheart, are you having an affair?”
“No, sweetheart, it’s work, I swear it.”
“Okay, Ethan. Do what you need to do.” Her words were an automatic response, a script she’d learned after years of similar calls. But this time, it felt different; a chasm had opened beneath her feet, one she wasn’t sure she could navigate.
“Thanks for understanding,” he said, a sigh bleeding through the line. “Love you.”
“But dear, it’s always work, or so you say. I’m sorry, but never mind; I do trust you. And love you too.”
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She hadn’t loved Ethan for quite some time. As she hung up, silence enveloped the room. The silent witness to the crossroads at which she now stood. Andres watched her, an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes. Those dark pools of knowing—held her in place, a moth pinned by desire.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, his tone laced with something that sounded like hope. He understood why she’d asked him if he was cheating. A defense deflection so he wouldn’t suspect what was about to happen between them. Andres had been involved with over a dozen married women.
It was the game they played. Cheating men probably had the same playbook.
Claretta nodded a slow bob, the weight of her wedding ring suddenly heavy on her finger. “Ethan won’t be home tonight. He’s… dealing with work.”