Chantele
Page 3
The students at the University were terrified of Vincent. His tolerance for time wasters was minimal, and he was upfront with his attitude towards them. Deep down, this was Vincent's strategic way of setting rules in place, ultimately ensuring his lectures ran smoothly so he could leave without fuss and beat the London traffic heading home to his family.
Watching Harry eating his food, Chantele still couldn't get the email on her father's laptop out of her mind. Why wasn’t it sitting right with her? Who sent the email?
“Why have they contacted Dad?” murmured Chantele to herself, sipping the freshly brewed coffee she woke up to every morning. Lowering the cup, she spotted a tray of chocolates inviting her to eat them.
Like most of the world, Chantele couldn't function without satisfying her need for caffeine first thing in the morning. Chantele lowered her cup thinking, ‘I need to call Dad. I have to know.’
She took the coffee and chocolates up the stairs to her writing room in the attic, knowing no one would disturb her in there. She carefully closed the door behind her, with Vincent still asleep in the bedroom. Taking up a seat on her favorite antique sofa she dialed her father's number.
“Chantele! Good morning sweetheart. It isn't like you to ring so early on the weekend. Is everything alright, dear?”
“Hi, Dad,” she answered, “Yes, everything’s fine. We are all good at our end. How are you and Christina?” She went for politeness and asked about her step-mother.
Her father remarried a couple of years ago. Before that, he’d spent twenty long years mourning the murder of Chantele's mother, Katya. The police never found the person responsible for her death. Chantele remembered the night, coming home from University lectures to see their home surrounded by police. An ambulance stood out front, and people were everywhere. It left a permanent imprint on her eighteen-year-old mind.
“Dad, the other week when I visited you I used your laptop to print out the boarding pass for my flight home. I saw an email come through on the screen,” she continued, “I didn't read the email. However, I did notice the subject matter,” she paused.
There was silence on the other end, and Chantele sensed the uneasiness between her them. “It was attention, Vladimir Sokolov,” she continued, her shaky voice exposing the shiver down her spine.
The silence stretched for minutes before her father spoke, “I’ll fly up tomorrow morning. We should talk; there is something I need to tell you.”
Something in his voice was different. He was serious, more so than he’d ever been with her before.
He continued, “Are you able to take the day off work tomorrow? Oh, and don't tell Vincent.”
“Yes, of course. Let me know which flight you are on, and I’ll pick you up from the airport.” She almost said goodbye but found a question spilling out of her mouth, showing concern, “I hope everything’s okay?”
“We will talk when I see you tomorrow. Goodbye Chantele,” her father didn’t wait for her response, ending the conversation abruptly.
Chantele couldn't feel her legs, they’d lost all sensation as if they’d gone to sleep. The room felt cold, and she could feel her heart beating faster than usual. Chantele knew the gut feeling she had earlier was something to worry about. She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes, praying everything would work out.
“Please God, keep us safe!” She whispered, finishing her coffee and sneaking in one more chocolate.
Chantele pulled herself together, she couldn't risk her family sensing her uneasiness. She quietly walked back downstairs, slipped into bed, and curled up under the covers as close to her husband as she possibly could. She felt her skin against his and leaned over, kissing him softly on the shoulder while he slept. Chantele loved Vincent along with all his faults and flaws. She knew she needed him at this moment and yearned for his touch.
Vincent noticed Chantele crawl into bed and kiss him. He responded by rolling over and hugging her closely.
“Well, that's a great way to wake up on a Sunday morning,” he whispered.
“Sssshhhhhhh….” She surprised him with another kiss, this time aiming for his lips.
She whispered, “Hold me, Vincent. Please hold me.” She looked into his eyes still trembling from fear of what tomorrow might reveal during the secret meeting with her father.
Before Vincent could respond to Chantele's request, she pressed her lips to his, hugging him and continuing where she left off. This time she held the kiss longer, her lips warm and moist as she tasted his.
Vincent felt the softness of her body. He could taste her morning coffee, but it didn't dissuade him as he leaned in towards her. Slowly his left arm cradled her head. He could smell the enchanting fragrance of flowers on her neck. He recognized the scent as Chantele's favorite perfume.
Feelings of love and passion filled his heart while he caressed her thigh. He felt her body melt as his fingers inched closer to her womanhood, reaching the waistband of her panties and pulling them down past her knees. He placed himself over her, the urge to feel every inch of her, her every breath, overtaking him.
Chantele surrendered to Vincent's advances. She ran her leg smoothly up and down his, losing herself under him while he responded to her every touch.
Vincent proceeded to slip the silk nightie over her head. He could feel her overheated lips, searching for the trigger that would surrender her to his touch.
Hypnotized by him, Chantele felt a rush of excitement. She began to breathe heavier, letting out a soft moan as he stroked her skin. She allowed herself to be taken under his spell.
Vincent was leaning down, noticed her eyes were closed as she became lost in the moment. He began to kiss the nipple on her left breast softly. Attentively he ravished her, watching her nipple respond in a hard thank you.
Chantele tried not to explode, stifling her moans. All three children were at home, and it wasn't something she wanted them to hear.
Vincent was determined to please Chantele even more. He made his way further down, taking in her toned abdomen. Even after three children, he couldn't believe how amazing she looked in bed.
Knowing where Vincent was heading, Chantele gently pushed his head with encouragement, feeling his kisses making their way down her.
Nearing her center, he found her core was moist and ready for him to enter.
The electrifying sensations, the all-consuming emotions, and the pleasure of their passion felt more intense each time. Vincent loved how every sexual encounter with his wife was different, feeling like the first time, every single time, even twenty years later. Chantele’s body was quivering at Vincent’s expertise.
Chantele enjoyed the sense of release from the tension in her body. Slowly she spread her legs wider and gripped Vincent's shoulders tightly while he continued to work her as if she was his favorite lollypop.
Vincent felt Chantele’s responses grow stronger as he caressed her with his mouth and tongue, as she verged on the edge of a whole body orgasm.
Chantele felt herself on the threshold of climaxing when Vincent rose above her and entered her, driving her softly at first and then harder with every stroke.
Each thrust was more soul reaching than the one before it, as he began to drive her even closer. He leaned down, kissing her other breast this time. He was rougher now, manipulating the nipple with his tongue and teeth. He was riding her so hard now; he could feel how tense she was. Her muscles began to release while he commanded his manhood to treat his lady with the attention she deserved, not missing any spot he could reach. Swinging her on top of him the tide turned, and Vincent positioned her on his throbbing shaft.
Chantele immediately felt how hard Vincent was and she sank down on him taking him deeper, while watching herself making love to her husband in the mirror above their bed. The rawness of her swollen breasts and the perkiness of her nipples fueled her arousal. In sync with Vincent now, she felt the rhythm they had going.
Vincent was in heaven star
ing into Chantele’s eyes. He enjoyed the show she was putting on for him. He watched and felt her as she continued to ride him, surrendering all of herself. Just when Vincent was ready to release a river, Chantele quickly slid off and moved as the floodgates of the dam burst. Vincent watched her enjoy him as he exploded. Glimpsing the blue sky through a window, Vincent thanked God for blessing him with the love of his life, the mother of his children, and the woman of his dreams.
Chantele gently kissed his navel as she crawled up next to him. “I love you, Vincent. Don't ever forget how much I love you,” she told him.
Chantele leaned over on her pillow and guided Vincent's fingers inside her and held them there until she climaxed, releasing the sounds of a silent orgasmic cry. Kissing her breasts, Vincent held her tight.
Their love was real and continually grew even more magical every time they expressed it. Drained and exhausted from a tiring week, Chantele rolled over and fell asleep, temporarily forgetting about the meeting with her father the next day.
Settling in next to her, Vincent held her in his arms, closing his eyes, he drifted off thinking of how lucky he was.
***
The next morning Harry crawled into Chantele and Vincent's bed, eagerly waiting for Chantele to wake up for his good morning kiss. Vincent fed him that morning while rushing to make an early meeting while trying to avoid waking the entire household. Harry's tummy was full, leaving him content as he laid next to Chantele watching her sleep.
Chantele’s sleep was broken by Harry's tail breezing by her nose. She jumped up in disarray, sneezing and confused at what just happened. Harry was utterly oblivious to her and continued licking his paws, not interested that he’d just disturbed Chantele.
“Harry!” She exclaimed in a stern voice, “Could you please not do that cheeky boy.” Annoyed, Chantele continued to sneeze.
She looked at the clock on Vincent's bedside, realizing she was late getting to the airport. Scrambling out of bed she rushed to the girl's rooms to wake them up.
“Wake up girls; It's 7:00 am. I'm late, so we need to hurry up.” Chantele said panicking. She was currently trying to figure out how to get the children to school and still reach the airport in time to pick up her father. He was flying in from Amsterdam and Chantele was nervously counting each minute before his arrival. Chantele couldn’t imagine what was so important her father couldn't tell her over the phone, it gave her cause for concern. Her heart raced in anticipation of the meeting, one she suspected wouldn’t be a good one. Her gut feelings grew stronger with every passing minute. She thought of the email which and felt a chill run down her spine.
Peeking into Alex's room Chantele saw he was already up, dressed, and his attention was buried in a book. “Alex,” she asked, “have you had breakfast yet?”
“Yes Mum, I ate with Dad. We had toast and fruit before he left for work.”
Remembering the heavy schedule Vincent had lined up, Chantele smiled, thinking of how lucky she was to have a good husband. Despite his workload, he always found time to pitch in with their children. She loved him for his sensitivity and how he shared the day-to-day chores. It gave her peace of mind that they tackled problems together. They were two adults who never questioned each other's roles in their family life. Chantele knew she loved him for who he was – with one possible exception.
Vincent suffered from a mild obsessive-compulsive disorder. As a perfectionist, he expected nothing less than exemplary from others. Vincent required a clean environment and couldn't tolerate laziness from others. He was organized and efficient in everything he did. He struggled when he wasn’t in control, failing to understand life isn't something people were in control of. Chantele was his angel, the only one who could help with his anxiety attacks and desire for perfection. Vincent was triggered by anything and everything, from a crumb on the ground to incomplete chores. Even something as simple as the kids eating chocolate and failing to wash their hands afterward.
His obsession with cleanliness was difficult for Chantele and their children. Over time it proved easier to work with his bazaar behavior than watch him self-destruct while losing his grounding. The problem was largely Chantele’s. The children were born within Vincent's world of perfection, and his expectations weren't something they focused on.
Chantele struggled with Vincent's disorder but loved him unconditionally. It was something she learned to live with as long as it didn't have a negative impact on their children. Deep down, she didn't mind Vincent's obsessiveness. There were advantages to living in an extra squeaky-clean home, adhering to hygiene rules, and his demand for perfection. She stood by him, instilling the value hard work in their children. Secretly, she knew it wouldn't hurt for them to carry Vincent’s rules through life. Chantele was always mindful, she needed to clean after Vincent, ensuring the kids were also aware what was and wasn’t acceptable.
Vincent was a loving father, only wanting the best for his children. He prioritized his children's needs, so Samantha, Suzie, and Alex had everything. He put in a hard day at work and worked even harder at home. His heart was in the right place, and despite his loud behavior, Vincent was a teddy bear underneath. He was a gentleman raised by a noble family, and he raised his children to be responsible adults one day too.
CHAPTER 4
A
fter glancing at her watch Chantele checked the arrivals board, seeing her father's flight delayed. It was just as well. Chantele had been caught up in rush hour traffic after dropping Alex and the girls off at school.
She had already called the office and informed Lina, her boss, she would be out all day. Lina was one of Chantele's closest friends. She knew with Lina around; the Oracle would run just fine without her.
Chantele's work ethic was nothing short of one-hundred percent. She was intelligent, thorough and efficient. Her ability to seek answers and think outside the box was a skill mastered over the years. She had a passion for finding the truth, as well as a way of keeping society real by informing and educating the readers and viewers. Her mission was to keep everyone up to date on what the bigwigs wanted unknown.
Chantele ordered a coffee, continually checking her mobile for messages and emails. As she continued to wonder what any of it meant? Who sent her father that email, and why hadn't Sanya picked up on this? Sanya was part of Chantele's secret past, the only person that knew Chantele's deadly secret.
Chantele's life-long friend Sanya ensured her real identity remained safe. That identity was sacred. Not even her husband Vincent could know the truth about who she really was. A day didn't pass where Chantele wasn’t sickened by betraying Vincent, hiding the truth about herself from him. Unfortunately, she didn't have a choice.
Sanya was Chantele's real-life angel. She was everything to Chantele: her confidante, her bodyguard, her personal assistant, and her best friend. Chantele considered Sanya family, and most importantly a lifeline. Her eyes and ears. Chantele knew without Sanya, she wouldn't be alive today. Sanya was the one person she could rely on to keep her family safe from Chantele’s tragic past.
Finally, the arrival board flickered, and her father's flight switched to 'arrived,' bringing Chantele a sense of relief. Feeling a weight lift off of her shoulders, she thanked God for her father's safe landing. Anton was the one thing she had left in her life after losing her mother. Her vision blurred and her eyes stung from tears as she thought back to the night her mother died.
Chantele never had closure from the tragedy of her mother's death. The police failed to bring anyone to justice. She felt an emptiness, remembering her father crouched down over the woman he’d loved since they were teenagers. The pain was always a part of her and her father, growing stronger with each passing year. Chantele knew soon she was going to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. Back then she had vowed, one day she’d get to the bottom of her mother's murder.
“Dad! I'm over here!” Chantele ran over to her father the minute she spotted him in the arrivals area.
/>
He was alone and traveling light with no luggage, not even a carry-on. Chantele hugged him, feeling his heartbeat before stepping back to look him at his face. They were both smiling, happy to be together for a brief moment.
“Come on, Dad. Let's go somewhere, and we can have breakfast; you must be hungry.”
Whisking her father to the airport’s exit, they made small talk. They spoke about Christina, her father's new wife, and Chantele’s children.
Chantele felt today was going to be a difficult one but attempted to postpone the inevitable. She couldn't help feeling closer to her father than she had in a very long time. Chantele also felt her mother watching over them from heaven. She knew it was Katya who’d brought them together again. She couldn't help thinking perhaps there was a reason. Did her mother want Chantele to see the email? Did Katya want her to find out?
***
Chantele drove to a Café not far from the airport. It was an old café, and their service was slow, but the food was fresh and hearty. It was somewhere she knew they could talk in peace. The ‘Alleyway Restaurant’ existed long before the urbanization of the area brought in more buildings, streets, and offices. Chantele discovered this quiet little eat-in working on a story about corruption on the precinct’s Council. Famished and feeling faint, Chantele had stumbled upon the cafe. She loved it and now visits regularly while writing as her alter ego, Charlotte Grace, enjoying the peace and lack of crowds.
Chantele waved at Jason, the boutique Café’s owner. She glanced up a nearby staircase, assured by his nod the coast was clear and they’d be alone upstairs. The café was two levels. The main level had tables and chairs scattered around, much like a traditional coffee shop. Upstairs had lounges and coffee tables providing a more relaxed setting compared to the regular chairs and tables downstairs. The owner of the café purposely designed it as a casual environment. The serene setting with its tranquil atmosphere and soft Zen music made the perfect backdrop for some of Chantele's most productive writing. She loved coming to the Alleyway, it was a place she enjoyed a warm cup of coffee with hearty but healthy, real food. It was her little secret, and she didn't dare share it with anyone - except for Sanya and now her father.