The Perfect Affair

by Lutishia Lovely

  When she’d first arrived, Jacqueline had balked when Randall chose a handshake over a hug. But then she’d reminded herself that they were on his turf, with his partners and staff, a number or all of whom knew his wife. She understood why he’d be standoffish. Unless his divorce and remarriage were handled absolutely perfectly, he could lose a lot of credibility and social standing. They’d both better stay cognizant of what was at stake.

  This was on her mind twenty minutes ago, but now, with Randall having closed his door, and knowing they had at least thirty minutes of alone time, her thoughts were on something else entirely. She sat down and watched his long, bold strides as he walked back over to join her at the conference table, took in his sporty attire and clean-shaven face, and imagined him naked, hovering over her, right on the table. He wasn’t a classically handsome man, one who would typically grace a magazine cover or walk a runway. But his skin was dark brown and smooth, his lips pleasingly plump, and the glasses he wore gave him a scholarly, sophisticated air. That, combined with the confidence that seemed to ooze from his pores, and he became the sexy scientist indeed. Her heartbeat quickened and the room grew as warm as her private parts. He sat down next to her. She asked several questions. He answered them succinctly. She asked for a refill of her glass of water. When he passed her to get it, she thought she’d swoon from the scent of his cologne.

  It brought back memories.

  She looked at him and imagined the lips that were forming his next question touching her lips, neck, breasts, and thighs. Imagined the scratchiness of his mustache as it brushed up against the sensitive skin just above her honeypot. She leaned over, silencing his talk of inventing more innovative and less intrusive ways to save lives, with the softest of kisses.

  “Jacqueline . . .”

  She kissed him again.

  “Not now,” he whispered, even as he kissed her back, giving her a little tongue for her troubles.

  “I’ve missed you,” Jacqueline murmured as she got up from her seat, hiked up her skirt, and straddled him. “Is the door locked?”

  “Mm-hmm.” His voice, deepened by desire, hummed against her chest as his face pressed against her knit top, her nipples straining to be touched, tasted.

  She shimmied out of the jacket that blocked his progress, lifted her top and eased down the sheer thin mesh that held her girls in check. Randall immediately took advantage, sucking a hardened peak into his mouth and swirling it with his tongue. Jacqueline threw her head back as she gripped Randall’s shoulders and suggestively rotated her pelvis against his hardening manhood.

  “My appointment,” Randall eked out between licks and nips on her tits. “I’ve got to—” Jacqueline reached between her legs and stroked his rigid shaft. “Ahh.”

  Easing off of his lap, she dropped to her knees, made quick work of unbuckling his belt, pulling out his penis and getting down to business. Um, this tastes so good, feels so good. I can’t get enough. I can’t wait to have it inside me to . . .

  “Sorry for the interruption, Jacqueline, I had to take that call. Now, where were we?” Randall sat down at the table, closed his eyes and gave his head a shake.

  “Randall, are you all right?”

  “Felt a little light-headed just now. Guess the busy schedule is taking a toll on a body that is not as young as it . . . once was.”

  “No worries. You’ve answered all my questions. My work here is done.” After one last piece of business, Jacqueline gathered her things, stood and looked around a room that was in perfect order. “Thanks for inviting me to your office, baby. I’ll see myself out.”

  Jacqueline exited the office and closed the door behind her. She strode confidently to her silver sports car and hopped inside. Everything with Randall had gone better than expected. Knowledge was power, and the internet was her friend. She was a geek and technology a wonder. Amazing how creatively cameras and recording devices could be hidden these days. Almost anything could be caught on tape.

  Smiling, she entered D.C.’s afternoon traffic. “Almost anything.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Days had passed and Randall was still puzzled. One minute, he’d been talking to Jacqueline. The next minute he was being shaken awake by his assistant, thirty minutes late for an important conference call. Sure, his schedule had been hectic and sleep elusive, but he’d never passed out like that. Ever. After making a note to call the doctor first thing Monday morning, he turned to the other situation consuming his thoughts.

  It had been a long time since Randall had kept anything from his wife; years since he’d had a secret. In doing so he felt nervous, uneasy, and a little bit sneaky. They’d been married almost fifteen years, enjoyed their share of triumphs, weathered their share of storms. Through it all, she’d been his constant companion, cheerleader, supporter, and friend. They shared almost everything. Which is why keeping what he was currently doing from his wife was so incredibly difficult. Would the end justify the means? He felt it absolutely would. But still, not telling her was hard.

  He rocked the office chair he’d occupied for the past thirty minutes, having gone there at just after six a.m., even though it was the weekend. He hoped Sherri wouldn’t wake up until he’d finished the phone call and could slide back into bed with his absence unnoticed.

  “Dr. Atwater?”

  “Yes, I’m here.” Upon hearing the voice on the other end of the line, Randall clicked over from the Science Today web page highlighting Jacqueline’s bio and back to that of Chase Bank.

  “Thanks for waiting. Are you still online?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Okay. If you refresh your page, you’ll see that your new checking account has been successfully opened and is now operational. From here you may deposit, withdraw, and transfer monies, all online. As you’ll see from the web page, you can also pay bills, wire money—”

  “I can wire money directly from the account, all online?”

  “That is correct. In addition we offer QuickPay, which allows you to make or receive payments directly from and into your account as well as send an overnight check if a paper trail is desired.”

  At this little tidbit, Randall remained silent. The last thing he wanted was a way that the upcoming transactions could be tracked. At least not easily, and not by someone who shouldn’t know what was happening. Namely, not by his clever, detail-oriented, and extremely astute wife.

  “If you’d like, Dr. Atwater, I can look up the nearest branch in your area where you can visit and talk with a representative personally.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already researched that information. But I do have one question about transfers to accounts outside of this bank. Is it . . .”

  The door opened. Randall looked up. Sherri entered the room.

  “Okay, thanks for the help. I’ll keep you posted on what I find out about additional funding.”

  While hanging up he closed the tabs on his computer until Outlook was the only thing on the screen.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Sherri asked with a yawn as she plopped down in the chair facing his desk.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Sherri’s brow creased. “Really? So you now snore when awake?”

  “I don’t snore,” Randall scoffed, knowing full well he did and also knowing that the sooner he got Sherri off the subject of why he was up early and on to another topic, the better.

  “Who was that on the phone?”

  Well, so much for changing the subject. “Just work, honey.”

  “This early? And on a Saturday?”

  “It’s a guy from Switzerland who I met in New York,” Randall explained, having seen an e-mail from the gentleman with whom he’d actually had a conversation about funding. Just not this morning. “He’d sent me an e-mail.” That it had nothing to do with money and everything to do with the best slopes in the Alps was something Randall felt Sherri didn’t need to know. “So I gave him a call.”

  He deleted a few e-mails, moved
those the bank had just sent him to the cytology file, and then closed his computer. “So, Mrs. Atwater,” he began, leaning back and crossing his arms. “What are you doing up at the crack of dawn?”

  “I’m always up early. Oh, but you wouldn’t know that since you’re rarely seen on the weekend before ten a.m.”

  Randall noted her teasing tone but perceptive eyes. “I think that’s an exaggeration.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Hey, did you see that disc I put on your phone?”

  “That silver thingy? You did that? I thought it was some designer mess from Albany. I meant to ask her about it but was asleep before Blair and the kids got back from the movies.”

  “No, it’s supposed to divert cell phone radiation away from your brain. While in New York last week, somebody gave it to me.” He held up his phone. “I have one, too. See?”

  “Hmm. We need to get one for Mom and the kids.”

  “Okay.”

  Sherri reached over for a magazine at the edge of Randall’s desk. He quickly picked up the envelope that had been hiding beneath it.

  Sherri noticed. “What’s that?”

  “Confidential information,” Randall quickly responded.

  “Something from the science office.” At her confused expression, he continued. “Government, Department of Energy. My company may be close to a breakthrough that will have national and international implications.” Randall placed the envelope into his desk drawer, turned the lock, and discreetly deposited the key into his cargo shorts pocket. “As more of the details fall into place, I’ll be able to share.”

  He stood. “Have you brushed your teeth yet?”

  “Why? Have you?”

  “Yes,” he said, coming around the desk to stand before her.

  “And I don’t want mouthwash to meet morning breath, know what I’m saying?”

  “Whatever.” Sherri stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. They enjoyed a brief kiss before she pulled her head back to look into his eyes. “Is everything okay?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “I don’t know. But you’ve always been pretty easy to read, and I get the distinct impression that something is going on with you.”

  “I just told you, Sherri.” Randall surprised himself with the ire in his voice. Keeping secrets was hard work! “It’s the stuff I’m working on with the Office of Science and Technical Information.”

  “You just said it was the Department of Energy!”

  Randall broke the embrace. “Really, Sherri? You’re going to question me as though I’m lying to you?”

  Sherri’s temper quickly rose to match his. “Well, if you are, the least you can do is keep them straight!”

  “The parent agency is the Department of Energy. The Office of Science and—Wait a minute, I’m not one of your children. Why in the heck am I trying to explain myself to you?”

  “That’s a good question,” Sherri said, crossing her arms and glaring. “Is there anything else that you need to explain?”

  Randall looked at Sherri a long moment. “You know what,” he said, his voice low and devoid of anger, “obviously one of us woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Maybe someone got their period, I don’t know. But I do know I’m not going to begin my day by arguing with you. If you want to calm down and do something together, fine. If not, I’ll go to the course and get in eighteen holes.”

  “You do that,” Sherri said, still on fire. “And while you’re at it, stick the nine-iron up your bald-faced lying ass.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Sherri walked out of the office, and had it not been for the spring hinges that made it impossible, she would have slammed the door. She started for the kitchen but, believing that the desire to break something might be too hard to squelch, went to the master suite instead and headed straight for the closet. After making quick work of pulling on a pair of sweats and sneakers, she placed house keys, earbuds, and her cell phone in a pouch, ran into the kitchen just long enough to retrieve a bottle of water, and left the house.

  She started walking without a destination in mind. It really didn’t matter where she went as long as it was away from Randall. She pulled out her phone, attached the earbuds, and tapped the music screen, scrolling until she found the folder titled “Walking.” Soon the upbeat sounds of McFadden and Whitehead blocked out the outside noise. In time, she hoped their positive message would work on how she was feeling on the inside as well. Securing the pouch around her waist, she engaged her arms, allowing them to swing freely as she did a semi-fast walk down the block. One of the early risers in their gated community was walking his dog. Another was jogging and yet another—who fancied herself to be the next Martha Stewart and tended the beautiful flower garden that framed their front lawn—snipped away at some unfortunate weed that didn’t belong. “Martha” attempted to wave and speak, but Sherri averted her gaze and kept it moving. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone. She needed space and time to focus on her feelings; why she’d gotten so upset just now and instigated her and Randall’s very uncharacteristic argument.

  Face it, girl. You don’t need time to figure out your problem. Her name is Jacqueline and the problem is you’re jealous of her, insecure because of her, and suspicious that your husband is, wants to be, or has been with her.

  Sherri took a deep breath. Just this inner acknowledgment had taken a toll. She increased her pace, enjoying the increased heart rate, the rush of air from her lungs, and the slight discomfort in her fast-moving legs. Her friend Elle had been faithful, but after the first couple times, Sherri and Mr. Shaun T had had a parting of the ways. Her body was letting her know that stopping before really getting started had probably not been her best move.

  But focusing on her body took her mind off her suspicions.

  Is that a good thing? She slowed a bit, remembering the conversation she’d had with Debbie, just after meeting Jacqueline Tate.

  Has he ever been unfaithful?

  Aside from his singular indiscretion all those years ago, she’d never doubted her husband. True, he mostly worked around men, and the women in the field didn’t intimidate her, but there had never been a time when she felt this uneasy. Even when he’d cheated, she’d not had a clue. Not at first anyway. Back then, she’d been the last to know, and only found out because of a sympathetic woman in Randall’s office who hadn’t liked her being in the dark.

  Trust your marriage, and your man.

  Sherri knew this was sound advice. So why was she finding it so hard to take heed? She reached inside her pouch to retrieve her vibrating phone. Looking at the caller ID, she welcomed the much needed distraction. “Good morning, Nathan.”

  “Is it? By the sound of your voice, I can’t tell. When I called the house and Randall said you’d already left, I thought something had happened with Mom, but he assured me she’s fine.”

  “Have you called her?”

  “No.”

  “You need to call her more, Nathan. Or better yet, make a few visits.”

  “I know, Sis. I’ll do better.” A few seconds of silence and then, “So what are you doing up and out so early?”

  “Decided to get a little exercise, take a walk.”

  “A walk or a jog?”

  “Walk, Brother. Unlike you, I’m not in the same shape as when I was nineteen.”

  “Sherri, I am not in that kind of shape.” A pause and then, “My body feels like it’s all of twenty-one.”

  “Oh, excuse me!” They laughed. “You’re up early too.”

  “Yes, I’m participating in a barbecue cook-off.”

  “When did you start cooking?”

  “Not cooking, Sis, barbecuing. Don’t put me in the kitchen, but when it comes to meat and a grill, I can hold my own. It’s a fundraiser to send the kids we mentor to college.”

  Sherri began walking again, a little slower this time. “We?” “I was asked to join a prestigious group here: the One Hundred Black Men of Atlanta. I didn’t tell you?”


  “Not that I remember.”

  “Several of the guys at the club where I work out are members. I figured that since I don’t yet have my own, I’d do what I could to help someone else’s child.”

  Sherri pulled the phone away from her ear. “Wait a minute. Is this Nathaniel Duane Carver I’m talking to, or has an imposter reached me?”

  “Don’t go making a mountain out of a molehill. And to answer the questions I know are in your mind: No, I’m not engaged. No, I’m not seriously dating anyone. And, no, nobody’s pregnant with your niece or nephew.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because unless you’re celibate . . .”

  “I’m sensible. I don’t take chances. I don’t take risks.”

  “And again I say, unless you’re celibate there’s . . .” Sherri paused as she looked at her phone. “Hey, Brother, this is Mom’s neighbor, Ms. Riley. I’ll call you back.” She clicked over, stopping abruptly in the middle of the path. “Ms. Riley? How are you doing? Is everything all right?”

  “I’m doing fair to middling, and your Mom is okay.” Sherri audibly released the breath she’d been holding and began walking again. Instead of turning right and heading back toward the house, or left toward the golf course, she went straight, to an area where more grandiose homes and a community clubhouse stood. “Then what can I do for you this morning?”

  “Now, I don’t want you to panic . . .”

  Sherri stopped again. Too late.

  “But I called to talk about the full-time assistant you mentioned for your mom, and whether you’d found somebody.”

  Sherri’s gait was slow as she began to walk again, eyeing the mostly cloudy sky and the slivers of sun peeking out. “Why, Ms. Riley? What’s going on?”