The Double Life: A Novel By Shea Lynn

by Shea Lynn

  The Double Life

  A Novel by

  Shea Lynn

  Womyn

  Published by Womyn Publishing Group

  Copyright © Shea Lynn, 2010

  All Rights Reserved

  Registered Trademark - Marca Registrada

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized. Electronic editions, and do not participate in or encouraging electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is greatly appreciated.

  To all those that told me I could do it and to those that need to know there is a way to be true to yourself. Here’s a little light for your journey.

  The Double Life

  Chapter One: Dayna

  She answered on the first ring.

  It had been two days since I’d seen her. Two days since we’d stood in my kitchen with my hands on her hips and my lips inches from hers. Two days since she’d gazed at me with tears standing in her worried, dark eyes and whispered with a trembling voice, “I need a break, Dayna. I’m feeling overwhelmed.”

  The words had hurt me. Sliced right through skin, bone, and cartilage and pierced my heart. It had been hard to breathe, but somehow, I managed to appear calm and supportive. I agreed that we should “take the time to reflect”. Those words had fallen from my lips but my heart had been bleeding.

  The faux strength that enabled me to kiss her good-bye and walk her to the front door disappeared as soon as I saw her drive away. To my own credit, I did make it nearly two days. Two days without phone calls or emails or text messages or any essence of her.

  And then I caved. I stood in my kitchen on Saturday morning and dialed her cell phone.

  And she answered on the first ring.

  “Dayna?” she asked.

  The silky sound of her soothing voice caressed me. Traveling through time, space, and cellular network hierarchy it found me in the comfort of my own home and began its ritualistic practice of magnifying my already intense need to be in her presence.

  It was just one word. Two syllables. Five letters.

  But spoken from her lips, coated in the luscious, silky smoothness of her soothing voice, the sound of my name sent shivers down my spine.

  I closed my eyes and leaned against my kitchen counter, riding the wave of pleasure that coursed through my her-craving veins and made my mind hazy.

  “I miss you,” I finally whispered, my eyes still closed, images of her flooding my mind.

  The silky smooth voice sounded again. “I miss you too,” it whispered.

  “I need to see you, Sidney,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Come see me,” she whispered.

  That was it. The softly-spoken green light I needed to have her in my space. The need for her drove my thoughts into hyper speed and in moments, I had a plan.

  I would get on the El and take the purple line from my home in the northwest suburbs of Chicago and meet her in her downtown office. The details behind the plan for this visit faded into gray. They were meaningless.

  All that mattered was that she’d said, “Come see me”.

  And she’d answered on the first ring.

  Chapter Two: Sidney

  “I need to see you,” she’d said.

  Damn. What was it about the combination of those words and her voice that made me so crazy? The moment she’d spoken them excitement and arousal snaked through me. Those words slid down inside me. Wound around my insides and made my throat dry.

  I’d rubbed the back of my neck and leaned back in my chair.

  At some point I’d said, “Come see me.” And as soon as those words left my lips, my weary eyes roamed back over to the four smiling faces on my desk; the picture perfect family I was betraying. In that glossy 5x7, framed in shiny faux-wood, Sidney Campbell King had been a different woman. Looking into the smiling eyes of my recent past, I couldn’t quite pinpoint just where along life’s journey I had changed.

  In that picture, I’d been the living hope and dream of my hard-working parents. I was a success. An attorney with a comfortable income and a husband who was still the same man I’d married. A faithful member of my church, warming the same pew every Sunday. The image of me, the success, the wife, the mother, all of that wasn’t just a shell of me. It was me. At least, I’d thought it was me. I couldn’t be so sure anymore.

  I had hoped she was a phase. A brief departure from my perfect life. And when the pull of our secret world began to overshadow my focus on the responsibilities of my primary existence, I’d summoned my once impenetrable fortitude and sequestered myself in my downtown office.

  I could have worked from home. I had an office there; a quiet room with a second-hand couch and the desk I’d used in law school. My husband had set it up for me not long after we’d moved into the house. He’d even painted the walls a dark shade of red; my favorite color. And in earlier days, when my focus was more attuned to rising the ranks from practicing associate to partner, I’d spent many busy evenings in that office.

  But I didn’t want to stay home. I wanted to remove all distractions and get back to life as it was in that photo on my desk. My logical mind reasoned that if I started with the logical and got my case load in order, the centeredness I’d feel would transfer itself back to my home life. I was convinced that I would return home at the end of that Saturday a new woman. A focused woman.

  I hopped on the El before 9am and rode the purple line all the way into downtown to avoid all distractions. Thirty minutes after walking through the glass doors bearing my firm’s name, I’d begun to feel the itch. The subtle tic that started as a pull at the back of my neck and traveled to my lip-nibbling front teeth. Before long, I’d had the look of a full-blown addict, my eyes darting nervously to the clock on my computer and back to the cell phone on my desk that failed to ring. I played this triangular game of split focus, from clock to phone and back to work, until my eye darting finally paid off and her smile appeared on my caller id.

  And despite me wanting to be the me I thought I used to be, despite the strength of my well-meaning intentions to refocus and get back on track, I crumbled at the sound of her voice. All notions of sticking to my plan flew out of my 13th floor window and we made plans for her to come and see me.

  Who had I become?

  Why couldn’t I be that woman in the picture?

  There are women that would literally kill to have what I had. To be with the man that had chosen me.

  I couldn’t stop looking at that picture and wishing that somehow I’d been able to avoid taking the scales from my eyes

  But you can’t go back. You can’t undo what has already been done. I couldn’t be the me I used to be.

  She’d exposed the power of the other part of me. The part I couldn’t hide. The hungry piece that craved and desired her and wouldn’t quiet until it was sated.

  I looked down at my hands. There was a gold watch on my right wrist and a gold pledge of commitment on the fourth finger of my left hand. I twisted that ring around and around on my chestnut brown finger and contemplated taking it off.

  Was it right to keep it on while I waited for the woman I was cheating with?

  Was it wrong to take it off?

  Whom did I really b
elong to?

  I pulled myself out of my dark thoughts and went down the hallway to the restroom. It was eerily quiet; only the comfort of white noise was keeping me company on that Saturday.

  After my bathroom break, I felt refreshed. And though I had no answers for the problems in my life, I did at least have a little piece of mind. I was an addict whose fix had a definite ETA and that helped calm me down. I made it back to my office and got back to work.

  I got so wrapped up that time got away from me and before I knew it, she was smiling at me again from the caller id.

  Chapter Three: Dayna

  Standing outside of her office gave me even more time to ponder just what I wanted from this venture into the city On the way downtown, I’d had to stop myself three times from calling her to cancel. I knew she was in trouble. I knew she was falling behind at work and at home and though I knew she needed time away from me, I was helpless to stop myself from needing to see her. My need to be with her was stronger than anything.

  And following this inexplicable pull on my heart, I took the train into the city and grabbed us some lunch on the way to her office. It was crazy to be down here. Crazy for my directionally-challenged brain to navigate the public transportation system to meet the woman I could no longer resist. Crazy to turn down the offer from my well-meaning pseudo ex-husband to spend time with him and our child.

  Crazy.

  Ludicrous.

  Reckless.

  As her silhouette emerged from the shadows behind the locked glass doors, those worries vanished. All thoughts short circuited at the sight of her. Like a beautiful vixen from a sappy love-story, she strode towards me in her jeans and light-weight dark silk sweater. She was all legs; tall and lean with a full head of relaxed hair pulled back in a pony-tail that bounced as she walked.

  Sidney floated toward me, wearing a bright smile that made her eyes twinkle and that smile let me know I’d made the right choice. This was where I needed to be.

  My breaths came shorter and shorter and my heart began to pound unmercifully in my chest. A flush started at my lips and sent a wave of heat over my body and I hoped that I wouldn’t somehow explode before she finally reached me.

  Chapter Four: Sidney

  I exhaled a long, deep breath. Her nervous smile and flushed coffee with cream skin made my heart beat speed up, my mouth dry, and my smile even wider.

  My legs carried me to the door and I unlocked it. I was inches from her lips. A short distance away from the soft, pillowy demigods that soothed me and softly uttered sweet nothings in my ear. Close enough for her sexy feminine scent to wash over me. To hear her swallow thickly and breathe heavily.

  I wanted to slide my arms around her. Pull her close to me and draw those soft lips to mine. I wanted to devour her.

  I wondered if my need for her was as transparent as I thought it must be. Dayna’s dark eyes met mine and as her heavy lashes slowly batted, there was no indication that she was oblivious to my wants.

  “You made it,” I whispered, the words floating on my shallow breaths.

  She smiled at me. “I did.”

  I suddenly remembered we were standing in the doorway, “Come…come in. I’m so glad you’re here.”

  We moved into the darkened hallway and I locked the door behind her. I was nervous and my hand shook slightly as I turned the lock.

  What is she doing to me? I wondered.

  “I stopped by the deli on the way over. Turkey sandwiches and potato chips,” she said.

  “Thank you, Dane.”

  She nodded and I led her to my office, all the while fighting the overwhelming sexual urges that had come upon me at the sight of this beautiful woman with the soft smile and coffee with cream skin.

  We always seemed to be a little shy with each other at first. Quiet and respectful. Playing a delicate game of sensual courtship until the game was over and one of us won the prize of the other’s undivided affection.

  We entered my office and I took our lunch from her hand and placed it on my desk. As I stood with my back to her, she walked up behind me, sliding her arms around my waist, resting her head against my back.

  It appeared our game finally had a winner.

  “I missed you,” she whispered.

  The beat of my heart sent a pulse through my body and my center began to throb. I pulled her arms tighter around me and closed my eyes, absorbing her presence.

  “I missed you, too.”

  I turned around and met her eyes. She gave a slight smile before I slipped my hand up along the side of her neck, through her hair and to the back of her head. I pulled her to me. Pulled those luscious lips to mine and closed my eyes. I kissed her. Softly at first, greeting her tenderly. When her tongue slipped out and touched mine, I knew that the greeting period was over. Our kisses went from soft and gentle to supple and sensual.

  Our tongues danced and as they did, I felt shivers travel up and down my spine. I leaned back to the edge of my desk for support and sensing me move, Dayna moved even closer.

  My hands slipped down from her hair, around her waist, and underneath her shirt. My hungry fingertips were desperate for the soothing sensation of her soft bronzed flesh. My tongue roamed from her full lips to the coconut smell on her neck and my kisses danced around and around on her skin.

  She leaned her head to the side, giving me full access to her neck. As I teased and tasted, she whispered “I need to be close to you.”

  I pulled back and glanced up at her closed eyelids, my arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

  “You are close to me,” I replied.

  Dayna’s eyes opened and the intensity of her gaze made my breath catch in my throat. She shook her head. “No. I need to be closer. I need to make love to you.”

  Desire flushed through me. I closed my eyes and leaned against her, the throbbing between my legs now unbearable. “Shit,” I whispered.

  She kissed my neck and trailed her tongue up to my ear. That talented tongue of hers continued its journey, teasing me and driving us to a place of no return. That was it. I had to give in.

  “Okay. Okay. Let’s um….let’s go to Sara’s,” I replied.

  Dayna nodded, her eyes dancing sultrily with my own. She held me, slid her hand through my hair and pulled my lips close to hers. She tasted me. Our tongues caressed and hearts raced until we separated and my lover whispered to me. “Let’s go to Sara’s.”

  Chapter Five: Dayna

  Sara’s was our secret spot. It was an upscale lesbian bar with a bank of hotel-style bedrooms for those customers in need of a secret rendezvous. Sidney had found out about the place through the downtown office rumor mill and after a few months, we’d finally worked up the courage to visit.

  A small sign on the front door bore a stencil of the bar’s name. The whole place was totally nondescript. There were no flashing lights outside or overbearing alcoholic advertisements. Everything inside was chic with a professional undertone. The leather couches and round glass tables stood out as marks of elegance and gave the place a warm and inviting feeling. The lights were dimmed low all day long and soft Jazz played in the background.

  When we arrived we went in straight through the bar and to the check-in booth at the back of the building. A thick-waisted blond with green eyes smiled at us as we approached the counter.

  “Hello ladies,” she sang. “I’m Megan, how can I help you?”

  I smiled in return. “Hi Megan. Can we get a room please?”

  I’m sure Megan had seen it all. All kinds of couples coming in for all kinds of reasons. She didn’t even flinch. No awkward smile, no sly wink of understanding. She was professional and accepting all at the same time and when she spoke, her tone was pleasant and warm.

  “No problem,” she said, before glancing down at her computer screen. “Okay, it looks like we have availability in The Green Room, The Peach Room, and The Sapphire Room.”

  I kept my eyes on Megan, left foot tapping a steady pace on the carpet beneath me. I coul
d feel Sidney’s eyes on me, her gaze leaving a trail of heat in its path.

  “Peach, please.” I replied.

  Megan smiled again. “Excellent.”

  We continued with the check-in process and finally she handed us two peach colored key-cards.

  I grabbed my lover’s hand and we used a key card to get past a set of secured glass doors. We walked down a short hallway, soft light guiding our path, until we arrived at a peach colored door with the word “Peach” written in script at the top. I led the way inside and she followed me. Sidney flipped on the light switch and the Peach Room came to life. Peach wasn’t just a name, it was more like the room’s statement of purpose. Everything was peach: the bedspread, the walls, the armchair, the phone, the television, the adjoining bathroom. Even the toilet seat, shower curtain, and towels were peach. The Peach Room even smelled like its sweet namesake.

  The door closed behind us and the automatic lock clicked into place. As it clicked, Sidney pushed me against the Peach door, her tongue magically zeroing in on one of my coconut scented secrets. As her soft kisses and scintillating tongue danced up my neck toward my ear, I reached for the top of her jeans and popped the top button before sliding my hand down past silky panties and into an even silkier wetness.

  That action stopped Sidney’s movements. She leaned into me and moaned. A deep throaty moan. I slid my fingers around her moist, swollen sex and drew another moan from her lips.

  “What do you want?” I asked. The power I felt was intoxicating. Her desire for me overpowering.

  She moaned again and I repeated myself. “What do you want, Sidney?”

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  “You want me?”

  “I do. Please.”