by Adams, S. C.
I power up the ancient laptop and open a search engine. Millions of results come up when I ask Google if there is redemption for girls who have strayed.
After a few articles, I feel both better and worse. The consensus seems to be that it’s my body and I can do with it whatever I please. The old custom that women have to wait until marriage to enjoy sex are outdated and sexist. I don’t need to apologize for experiencing something beautiful.
But there are still many, many other articles about how I’m a disgusting, damaged woman now who should be placed in the care of the church. I choose to believe the ones that say I’m worthy of a social life over the ones sentencing me to a religious prison.
No matter what the internet says, my parents would agree with the naysayers. I’m sure their Bible study group would, too. The group is here every Wednesday night, talking about passages in the “Old Book.” While my parents allow me to miss these meetings, it is expected that I attend church with them every weekend.
Knowing that I have to keep what happened a secret makes me feel… naughtier. This is so wrong! I should hate myself right now, not feel like I could do it all over again this second.
I toss my laptop aside and allow my fingers to brush my throbbing pussy once more. My panties are soaking wet, and there isn’t a man in sight! What does this mean?
The memory of Sean’s finger inside of me washes over my body. What would it feel like to use my own hand the way Sean had used his?
Quietly, I remove my panties, dress, and bra, leaving myself completely exposed to no one but myself. I scurry under my floral comforter, just in case my parents decide to make an appearance. Though my door is locked, they have a key, and they’re not afraid to use it.
I slowly move my hand back to my slit and feel the wetness there. All of this is from thinking about Sean! I wonder what he’d say if he knew? He’d probably whisper something dirty in my ear, the words sounding out of place with his posh British accent. I can practically hear him and feel his breath against my neck as he pleasures me.
My finger dips inside my waiting hole; the pressure feels incredible. Sean had only used one, but his fingers are each the size of two of mine. I slip my index and middle fingers deep inside my pussy and hold them in that position. It feels almost as good as when Sean was in the same position!
As an experiment, I decide to add a third finger. Oh my goodness! It feels so good. With my other hand, I rub the upper part of my pussy in circles like Sean did.
Within seconds, I’m trembling beneath the comforter as an orgasm takes control of my body.
Someone knocks on my door as I come down from the pleasure. “Maggie, honey, it’s dinner time!”
“Okay, Mom. I’ll be down in just a minute!”
How am I going to sit at the dinner table with my parents after what I just did? It’ll be impossible! They’re going to smell the sin on me, for sure.
I have no choice, though. Even when I’m ill, it’s expected that I join my parents in the kitchen for dinner.
My dress is a crumpled mess on the floor, so I change into new panties, jeans, and an elegant shirt that my mother loves. This is my usual attire at dinner, so they won’t suspect anything. I hope.
Dad eyes me curiously when I sit down in my seat at the table. “Are you okay, Maggie? You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him quickly. “Still a bit tired. I’d only managed to change when Mom knocked on the door.”
Does my voice sound almost British? Is it possible that after just an hour with Sean, I’ve adopted his gorgeous accent?
I clear my throat, hoping that clears the accent from my voice.
“You were in your room for thirty minutes!” Dad exclaims. “What were you doing all of that time?”
“I checked my emails and read a few articles about sewing techniques that I can use to improve my work. I couldn’t turn my mind off enough to rest.”
Mom fills my plate with alfredo and settles into the seat across from me. I hadn’t even noticed her scooping food for my father or for herself. My mind is far from this table right now. I’m too stressed about hiding my newfound experimentation from my conservative parents to focus on what’s going on around me.
“You poor thing,” Mom says. “Are you sure I can’t talk to your boss about working you so hard? You’re even working at home!”
I shake my head. “It’s okay, really. The sewing articles were more for my own designs.”
My parents dig into their meals silently, choosing to ignore my statement. They’re supportive of me in a lot of ways, but they don’t want to get my hopes up about being a designer. I’m grateful they’ve allowed me to get a job outside of the family business. Even so, it’s expected that I’ll take over the dry cleaners when my parents decide to retire. This new job is a taste of freedom that I could lose at any moment.
Mom and Dad had me late in life. My father was already thirty-nine when I was born, and my mother was thirty-five. In just a year, my father will technically be at retirement age. I have to savor this taste of the outside world while I can.
“This alfredo is delicious, Mom.”
She beams, clearly glad for the change in subject. “I’m glad you like it! I know it’s your favorite, so I made it to celebrate this special occasion. I have a surprise for you for dessert, too!”
I don’t have the heart to tell Mom that alfredo isn’t my favorite food; it’s hers. I prefer soba noodles. The gesture is so nice that I don’t want to break her heart with that admission. At least the alfredo is actually delicious.
We eat silently until Dad finishes his second helping. I rinse our dishes and load them into the dishwasher while Mom gets out my surprise dessert. She makes me sit down at the table with my eyes closed like it’s my birthday.
“Okay!” she cries right into my ear. “Open them!”
On the table in front of me is a burning pile of merengue and ice cream. Baked Alaska actually is my favorite dessert, but it’s so hard to make that we rarely get to eat it.
“Where’d you get this?” I ask. “It looks incredible!”
“You know that bakery you love down the street from the dry cleaner? I asked them to make it special for you. We really are so proud of you for getting this job.”
I jump up from my seat and hug my parents. “Thank you so much. This is the nicest surprise! I can’t wait to eat it.”
As we dig into the delectable dessert, I lose myself to thoughts of Sean. What we did is forbidden in my world, although probably expected in his. I absolutely shouldn’t want to do it again.
Yet all I can think about is how badly I want Sean to show up at Havisham’s tomorrow and whisk me off into the dressing room so that I can learn how good it feels to have something other than fingers deep inside of me.
I moan loudly enough to startle my parents.
“Sorry,” I tell them. “This is just so good.”
“Well, honey, try to keep your excitement contained. Those kinds of noises are not ladylike.”
Oh, mother. If only you knew how unladylike your daughter was earlier today.
And how unladylike I’m going to be again tonight when I’m supposed to be going to sleep.
6
Sean
“Sir, are you even listening?”
I drop the stapler onto my desk and blink a few times to clear my head. My hands always look for something to hold on to when my mind is wandering, and I guess my stapler was the victim this time around. It doesn’t seem broken, so I put it back in its usual spot, safe from being dropped again. “Sorry, what?”
My assistant, Greg, sighs. He’s usually much more collected than he is right now, so it must have been a long time since I last paid attention to what he was saying. I honestly don’t even remember when he got here. “I was going over your schedule for the day.”
My eyes find the clock on my office wall. It’s already after nine. My workday begins at seven every morning, so we’re well into my usual day. When
was the last time I looked at the clock? I think it was when Greg first came in. So, thirty minutes ago? That’s not good.
“I’m sorry, Greg. I’m a bit distracted. Can you go over it again from the top?”
“Of course, sir.” He flips back two pages in the large planner he uses to keep my schedule in check. Three pages just for today? Do I always have this much going on? I know Greg is thorough, and he takes copious notes on what I need to expect in my meetings, but surely, a single day doesn’t take up multiple pages in that dastardly book.
He places a finger at the top of the page and starts to read. As Greg drones on about my day’s appointments, my mind wanders to Maggie once again. I know I need to pay close attention to what my assistant is saying, but that’s just not possible when Maggie’s plump, perfect lips keep invading my every thought.
What is it about this woman that has my head everywhere but work? I’ve never been like this before. I’m the one who leaves before sunrise and never calls again. “Love them and leave them” has always been my motto. I don’t think about the women I sleep with after the deed is done.
So why is Maggie so different?
Thinking about the last woman I dated, she couldn’t be further from Maggie if she tried. I don’t date often. When I do, they’re scrawny, money-grubbing blondes. I thought I had a type until I met Maggie.
Maybe Maggie is my type. I loved being between those thick thighs of hers. She stayed so wet the whole time we were messing around, too. So young, too. I’ve been with a lot of women, and none were as young and energetic as Maggie. It was clear she was innocent, but she made up for her inexperience with passion. Her blow job was the best I’ve ever had.
My cock hardens in my pants at the thought of it. I’d give anything to be with her again.
“Greg, when is my next appointment at Havisham’s?”
My assistant looks startled, reminding me I was supposed to be listening to him this entire time. Hopefully, I don’t have any important meetings this morning because I’m in no shape to be doing business. As CEO, I don’t have to do too much to keep things running, but I am in charge of the day-to-day success of my business. There are a lot of people counting on me to make them money.
“Sorry, sir?” Greg asks, blinking like a lost doe. I feel bad for the kid. He’s been my assistant for two years now, and I’ve never been this distracted before. Greg must think I’m losing it. He’s a great assistant, so I hope my scatterbrain isn’t going to send the guy looking for another job.
“The suit store, Greg. When is my next appointment?”
He scrambles through my appointment book that, now that I have a good look at it, appears closer to a novel than a planner. “Uh, next week,” he says. “Thursday at two.”
That won’t do. If I don’t see Maggie soon, I might explode. And not in a good way. The only release I want is from that beautiful woman’s mouth. Or, even better, from burying myself between her robust thighs. How has it taken me until now to know how much better curvy girls are than twigs?
“I need you to make me an appointment this week.”
Greg gapes at me. “Sir, this week is very busy. You have meetings and that conference…”
“Make it happen!” I yell. Greg takes a step back and snaps the appointment book closed. His eyes flare in anger, a look I’ve never seen on his face until now. “I’m sorry, Greg. I need a new suit for… my parents’ visit. They can be very judgmental about my clothes.”
My assistant nods, but it’s clear he’s not convinced. He flips the book back open and searches for any empty space. “I understand. I can move your… three o’clock meeting on Thursday to next week and get you in at Havisham’s instead. Is that soon enough?”
It’ll have to be. “That’s great, Greg. Now, what is on the schedule today?”
To his credit, Greg doesn’t roll his eyes or growl at me. The calm, cool, and collected college grad I’d hired as my assistant has returned. “You have a conference call with the partners at eleven. Then meetings with traders for the rest of the day.”
“Thank you. Is there anything else?” I keep my eyes trained on him so that he knows I’m paying attention this time.
Greg taps his pencil against the open planner. “Are you okay, sir? You seem distracted.”
“I’m fine, Greg.” I need a less nosey assistant. Aren’t they supposed to be silent unless spoken to? The last thing I need is some know-it-all trying to get up in my business.
Although, really, it is Greg’s job to know everything about me.
He pauses. “If you say so. I’ve been with you for a while, and I know you’re not yourself. It’s not in my job description, but if you need someone to talk to…”
Most men would send their assistants to the curb for such a declaration, and I’m tempted to do just that. However, most of my friends are married with families, so I don’t have a line of people willing to listen to my girl troubles. I appreciate Greg’s interest in my life, even if he is probably only asking out of obligation. “There’s just this girl, Greg. I guess she’s taking up more of my head than I expected.”
My assistant grins. “I thought it might be something of the sort. Should I pencil this woman in?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. I’ll let you know after my meeting at Havisham’s.”
He hides his surprise well. “Okay. So, is that where you met?”
“Listen, we’re not going to do the whole gossip thing. We’re not ladies.”
Greg shrugs. “I wasn’t trying to be a girl. I thought you might want to talk about the reason I’ve read your schedule twice and yet you have no idea what you’re doing today.”
That makes me chuckle. The guy is right. “This doesn’t leave the room,” I tell him. “Take a seat.”
He sits excitedly. While Roger’s sexuality is an enigma, I’ve known about Greg’s preference for men since I hired him. His flamboyance is clear from his purple suit. When I first brought Greg on as my assistant, I tried to get him to dress in black, gray, or even white, but my attempts never worked. It’s impossible to cull the guy’s sense of style, but that doesn’t really make a difference to me. His attire doesn’t affect my business in any way. If anything, it makes work more interesting. I never know what I’m going to find when I get to the office.
“You can start by telling me her name. Her full name, if possible. I can run a background check on her.” Greg poises his pencil over the assignment book like he’s ready to take notes.
“That won’t be necessary,” I assure him. “Her name is Maggie, but I don’t know her last name.” It’s only after I say this aloud that I realize how bad that sounds. It’s normal for me to hook up with anonymous women, but I don’t usually think about them beyond a night. Shouldn’t I know her last name if I want to hook up with her again?
Greg’s eyes widen. “You don’t know her last name? How far have you gone with her? There’s no chance she could be pregnant, right?”
“No, not a chance. We didn’t go that far.”
“Good. The last thing we need is a paternity case.”
He’s right, of course. Not that I think Maggie would do that, but the possibility is always there. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to clean up a mess like that. I’ve never been the father, for the record, but the zeroes in my bank account make me an easy target.
“No need to worry about that.”
Greg nods. “Do you think this one might be for real?”
“I have no idea. I guess we’ll find out.”
He stands up, clearly done with our brief heart-to-heart. “I hope it works out. You seem to like her.”
“I do like her. I don’t know how or why, but that’s where I am with it.”
His laughter fills the large office space. “Hopefully, your meeting on Thursday helps you figure it out. If you need anything else, you know where to find me.”
Greg dismisses himself, leaving me alone at my desk to wait for the conference call I have scheduled.
Why do I need to talk to the partners? They’re supposed to be silent. I handle the day-to-day work at our trading firm, and they reap the rewards. They also fund most of the trades, but that’s beside the point.
I just have to get through that ridiculous meeting and talk with some traders, and then I can leave for the day. I’m not up for more than that. At least I have something to look forward to. I get to see Maggie in less than two days.
It is possible to survive until then. It won’t be easy, but it’ll have to do.
Knowing that I’ll be in Maggie’s presence again is almost enough to get my motivation levels up. That, along with a cup of coffee, and I should be in tip-top shape for the meetings on my agenda.
“Greg,” I call out. “Can you have an intern bring me an espresso? And make it a double.”
“Yes, sir,” he responds.
A Botox-filled college student scurries into my office with a mug of coffee. This girl would have been my exact type last week. In fact, in the past, I would have locked my door and bent her over the desk for a morning delight.
Now, though, I thank her and send her away. The only person I want to bend over is Maggie.
Thankfully, I’m going to get my chance again in a few days.
I only have to hold out until then.
7
Maggie
“I’m going over to Jenna’s!” I call into the kitchen.
My mother runs to the front hallway to catch me. “Where are you going?”
“Jenna’s,” I tell her quickly. “She wants to hear about my new job.”
Mom’s face sours. “Are you sure you should be going over there?”
