The Double Life: A Novel By Shea Lynn

by Shea Lynn

  I sniffed and smiled. “Yeah?”

  “Every day and every night.”

  “I love you, Ma.”

  “I love you, too Sidney. You hungry?”

  I smiled. “Yeah.”

  “All right, let’s eat.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Cameron

  The first time I cheated on Dayna, I got this rush that made me feel like Superman. It was risky and I got away with it. Strange thing is, I wasn’t even looking to cheat, but this girl kept throwing it at me. She was super fine and super freaky and it was too damn easy. Dayna and I had been seeing each other for about six months then.

  I can’t even remember that girl’s name. I can remember her lips and her face, but I can’t remember her name to save my life. That’s how important she was to me.

  I hit it a few times and then tried to get back on the right track with Dayna. My wife is a preacher’s daughter. And you know what they say about preacher’s kids: Wild, Out of Control, Always in Trouble. That wasn’t Dayna. She was cool and calm and responsible. She was the marrying type. The type of woman I wanted to have my children.

  But when we started dating, I wasn’t ready to get married. I wasn’t ready to settle down. I was young, early thirties. Good looking with a little change in my pockets. Women loved me and I loved them. So I decided to have my cake and eat it to. I would keep holding onto Dayna until I was ready to get married. When I was ready, I’d do it up with a fantastic proposal and a shiny ring. But right then, I just wasn’t ready.

  That’s selfish, right? I know it sounds bad, but I had a nice circle of friends back home and I can tell you first hand that I’m not the only member of the “hold ‘em till you’re ready club”.

  My problem was that I couldn’t give up the hunt for other women. The rush of the chase was fucking intoxicating and though Dayna was my girlfriend and we’d dated for a few years, I still wasn’t ready.

  I started looking around and all my friends were getting married. My father started throwing his “I’m disappointed in you” look at me more and more. I heard invisible clocks ticking and though I knew I still wasn’t ready, I swallowed my fears, got permission from her dad, bought a beautiful princess cut diamond ring, proposed and said “I do”.

  When I look back I still don’t understand it. Was it phase? Was it really just me? Not all of us are made to be in a committed relationship. Maybe I just wasn’t made that way because I still didn’t stop hunting for those other women. I tried to be discreet about it and keep it on the low, but towards the end I got sloppy. Started doing stupid shit like not coming home at night and not washing the smell of other females off of me before I got home.

  My therapist explained to me that I resented Dayna because I hadn’t been ready to settle. But responsibility had me locked into coming home and being a husband and a father. It wasn’t their fault, but I took my resentment out on my wife and I stopped caring about what she knew or didn’t know.

  And when I stopped caring, I started getting caught. I used to keep track of the number of women like trophies in my mind, but I stopped counting when I started getting caught. And then she kicked me out.

  The irony was that as soon as I had the freedom to kick it with any female I wanted, I no longer wanted anyone but my wife. The grass is always greener, right?

  When I saw how brown that fucking grass was on the other side, the desire to get my family back was overwhelming. It motivated every move I made. I wanted to be with her. I wanted Dayna to know that I had changed. I started therapy And then I suggested couples therapy. I know she didn’t want to go. But she didn’t want to fail. I know her. She’s afraid of failing with me. Divorce is not something that’s in her. Knowing this fueled me. Gave me ambition to focus on her. Laser focus on us. Try to fix what I’d tossed away and broken.

  Maybe it was working.

  There were no razors, foreign toothbrushes, or him-style hair products in her bathroom. She let me stay the night.

  I was encouraged. Convinced that this tiny crumb, this minute crack in the wall between us would be powerful enough to tear all the barriers down.

  She let me stay another night, and another. My confidence grew. I wasn’t stupidly confident. I knew that a lot of her didn’t want me there, but again, I knew she didn’t want to fail us.

  Dayna didn’t trust me. She had no reason to. But like a recovering addict, I’d been clean since we split. I missed her. I missed her wanting me around. Because even now, she didn’t really want me there like she used to.

  I was guilty as hell. Filled with a guilt that gave me heartburn sometimes. Some nights I’d sit up in bed and watch her as she slept and shake my head at memories, names and faces I couldn’t erase.

  That Guilt….he’s an expensive motherfucker. Made me open up my wallet and spend a little cash. I couldn’t go back in time. Couldn’t make different choices. My Guilt, he calms down when you spend money. So I bought her things to help ease my own discomfort.

  And after she tossed me that first crumb and let me stay the night, me and Guilt started putting in good work to ease my discomfort. I’d been to the jewelers a few times, had the florist on speed dial, and even punked out in the designer purse boutique picking out a handbag for her. All for her.

  If Guilt didn’t calm his ass down, I might need to take out a second mortgage on the house. I sighed to myself and looked down at my wife, watching her sleep.

  “It’s worth it,” I whispered to myself and smiled to the future of torn down walls and new beginnings.

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Dayna

  “Cameron.” I whispered aloud.

  I looked over at the yellow roses and googly-eyed teddy bear adorning my office desk and felt a dark cloud of depression float into place over my head. He was giving our relationship everything he had and I felt like I was the one dragging my feet. I wanted to want him. But I knew that I didn’t. I was just hoping that over time, my compassion for him would lead me to more passionate feelings. My eyes kept drifting from the freshly delivered yellow roses to the phone on my desk. I had flowers from him, but my fingers were itching to dial her.

  Eventually, they itched so much I had to let them scratch.

  “This is Sidney King,” she answered.

  My heart pounded in my chest, excited by the mere sound of her voice. “Hey Sid, it’s me.”

  She said one word but it was much softer and much more loving than the four words she’d spoken already. “Hi.”

  “How…how are you?” I asked.

  Sidney sighed and I could almost see her shoulders droop. “Miserable. How are you?”

  “Missing you terribly.”

  She cleared her throat then and lowered her voice. “Missing me as a best friend? Or missing me as something else?” she asked.

  “Both. Is that an answer?”

  “It’s not supposed to be.”

  “Do you really think we can do this?” I asked.

  She sighed and said, “All things are possible….”

  “Through Christ who strengthens me,” I finished.

  “Dayna?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. And I miss you. And I don’t know…. I don’t know if I can keep this up, but I need to try. We really need to try.”

  There were tears in my eyes when I answered her softly. “You’re right. Be like Job.”

  “Yes. Be like Job.”

  And suddenly, there was a sharp rap on her door. Sidney cleared her throat and donned a mask of professionalism. “Paul, come on in. It’s so good to see you,” she said, before bidding me a quick farewell and disconnecting our call.

  I shook off the sadness I was feeling and tried to pull myself together. I took out my folio and took a swig of coffee. I was the director of The Chicago Family Placement Center. We found housing and set up transitional assistance for homeless families. I had a team meeting in a few minutes and I needed to be ready to lead my four direct reports.

  I looked over at my roses one last t
ime.

  “It’s for the best. We will work. It’s all for the best.” I said aloud.

  That Thursday was really hectic. I was so busy I didn’t have much time to think about the turmoil going on in my life. It was nice to be distracted. To be wrapped up in the needs of others and drop all of my nervous energy into helping the less fortunate get back on their feet.

  My work was gratifying. It helped me purge my soul. Almost like doing penance for the sin of loving Sidney.

  And though she’d been absent from my thoughts during the majority of the work-day, she returned to center stage on my traffic-clogged commute home.

  ‘I shouldn’t have called her. If I’m serious about being with Cameron, then I need to really let go. I’ve got to stop chasing her. I told her we should end it. And we should.’

  I made more decisions. He was the balm for wanting her. At least I hoped that he was. It was time to bury my hidden past with Sidney and I could think of no better way to do that than by loving Cameron. By sleeping with him. By letting go of the fears I had and jumping into the deep end with my husband.

  I picked up Nina from her after-care program and took her to a little park up the street. I let her run around and play and play so that I knew she’d be tired and worn out and would give Cam and I enough alone time. By the time he made it in from the hospital, my daughter was bathed, fed, and ready for bed.

  Cameron was standing in her doorway, watching me read to her as her little eyelids drooped and she slipped off to sleep. I kissed her forehead, turned down the lamp in her room and went out to greet him.

  “Hey, Cam.”

  My husband smiled as he loosened his tie. “Hey there. I’ve never seen her in bed so early.”

  I stared at him then. “I wanted to put her down early so we could have some time.”

  He blinked a little faster than he normally would. “Time? Is it bad time? Did I do something?”

  I smiled and placed a warm hand on his chest. “No, no. You’ve done everything right. Thank you for my roses. They were beautiful.”

  He grinned widely. I could see relief in his dark brown eyes. “Good. I’m glad you liked them.”

  “Cameron, I’ve liked all of your gestures. All of them.”

  “Yeah?”

  I nodded. “I really have. And I wanted us to have some alone time. Is that okay?”

  His grin grew wider and his eyes danced. “That’s more than okay.”

  “You hungry?” I asked.

  He nodded. “A little. I smelled food when I came in. Did you cook?”

  “Nah. Just picked up a little something from that Italian place around the corner. You ready to eat?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “I am. I’ll tell you what. Go take a nice hot shower. I’ll have dinner ready for you in the room when you finish up.”

  Cameron stared at me. He didn’t respond. He just stood there, his eyes blinking and this pupils looking blank.

  “Cameron?” I asked.

  That seemed to snap him out of limbo. “Yeah?”

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna go hit that shower. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  I smiled. “Take your time. Relax.”

  Again, he stared at me as if I were a stranger before he nodded slowly and replied, “Yeah. Okay. Sure thing. I’ll…take my time.”

  I leaned up on my tip toes and kissed him quickly on the lips. “Go head. I’ll see you when you come out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Cameron

  I stood staring after my wife as she walked away.

  ‘Did the yellow roses do all this? If that’s the case, I should have started with yellow roses.’

  I tried not to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t help it. I stood under the hot water, images of what I wanted to do to Dayna flashing in my mind. She’d smelled so good when she kissed me. Her lips were so soft. My shit was hard already. I looked down and realized I’d have to handle that if I had any hope of trying to really take my time and make love to my wife.

  It didn’t take me long to put myself at ease so that I could get on with my night. I dried off and stood at the sink, brushing my teeth and staring at my reflection in the mirror.

  ‘Don’t get carried away, Cam. Maybe she just wants to talk. Maybe it’ll be a talking night. If so, that’s okay. I can wait until she’s ready.’

  As I spit and rinsed I kept trying to convince myself to stay calm but I was hoping to be surprised.

  And I was.

  When I opened the door to our bedroom, wearing only a towel around my waist, there were candles lit all around. Dayna was lighting the last one and she turned her head to smile at me. She had on this black, silk, nighty and I could feel my manhood start to stand back up.

  I cleared my throat. “What’s all this?”

  She blew out the match in her hand and replied, “Your welcome home.”

  My questioning glance was my response.

  She walked closer to me. “I want us to be in this 100%. I want you here full-time. I want our life back. I want….I want you back.”

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  She nodded. And even in our darkened room with just the flicker of candle-light to illuminate her eyes, I thought I saw them flicker with hesitation.

  “Come here,” I whispered.

  She walked to me then and I pulled her into my arms. “I love you, Dayna.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I ran my hands down the silk of her gown and the fabric ended right below the curves at her hips. The smooth feel of her soft skin on my hungry hands was so tempting. I slid them up along the back of her thighs and my hands came to rest on the supple skin of her rounded cheeks.

  She wasn’t wearing any panties.

  I took that as the green light I needed to move forward and end our nine month sexual hiatus.

  I squeezed the cheeks in my hands and bent down to kiss her. The kiss started softly at first, but I was hungry. I slid my tongue between her lips, needing to taste her, needing to get inside of her.

  She pulled back and said, “Are you...are you hungry? I brought the food up so that - - -,” she began.

  “Not hungry. Just hungry for you,” I said, stepping closer, closing the distance she’d just created.

  All I could think about was making love to her.

  I bent down to kiss her neck, my hands roaming around the soft silk of that black nighty. The feminine scent on her body pulled me in even tighter, luring me into her flesh with its sultry fragrance.

  I had to have her.

  I picked her up and carried her to the bed.

  She gave me a nervous smile before I leaned down to kiss her once more.

  I felt her hands on my bare back as the towel I’d tied on my hips began to slip away.

  I kissed her again and again, my hands sliding down to feel her sex. I needed to feel her. Needed to touch that special spot and know she was ready for me.

  When I got down there, she wasn’t wet the way I thought she should be.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She nodded her head very fast. “Yeah. I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded again.

  I spread her legs further apart and eased myself into her.

  She whimpered a little and we adjusted and adjusted until the fit was okay.

  I started a slow stroke and that shit felt so good. And I knew that despite my earlier release in the shower, it wouldn’t be long before I came.

  All of my senses were overloaded.

  Touch.

  Smell.

  Sight.

  Taste.

  Sound.

  All of it crashed in my mind and before I knew it, I was exploding.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Dayna

  Sidney was the only woman I’d ever been with. And I wasn’t sure if my sexual compatibility with her was due to her being a woman or to some sort of natural chemistry we shared. What I did know was there was never
a time when we made love and I didn’t climax. There was never a time when her touch didn’t send a torrent of trembles across my heated flesh. Never a time when I didn’t want her naked skin pressed tightly against my own. I had become addicted to the feeling of her skin on mine and had been driven for months by a need to meld with her.

  Being with Sidney had reset my bedroom expectations.

  When Cameron’s touch didn’t give me tremors, I was a little worried. When we kissed and his tongue didn’t possess the master level of craftsmanship Sidney’s did, I grew a little more worried. When his strong hands stroked the exposed curves beneath my gown and I wasn’t filled with a longing to meld with him, that worry began to escalate.

  We made love that night. Cameron was gentle and loving and giving.

  But he wasn’t her.

  He was firm and strong and as he slid himself into me, I hoped I would be able to feel with him what I did with her. I wanted to need him. I wanted to want him. So badly did I want to want him.

  I didn’t expect to have an orgasm the first time we made love. But he did. And I was happy that Cameron was happy.

  Spent from his climax, he leaned down on top of me, his mouth near my ear, his breath heavy and wheezing.

  I rubbed his back, forcing away thoughts of her that had come creeping into my consciousness.

  “I love you,” he’d panted.

  “I love you, too.”

  And then he’d kissed me. Softly. Gently. And I forced my mind to stay in the moment and not wander over to visit her.

  We lay there for a moment until his breathing calmed and he kissed me again. Cameron kissed his way to my breasts and I found it hard not to compare his technique to hers.

  He was lacking.

  And I was panicking.

  Cameron was leaning down, holding his body up with his arms, his now flaccid manhood hanging down between us. I reached for it. Hoping to connect with it like some magical stick. I stroked him gently and he closed his eyes. I’d have sworn I could see his eye balls rolling around in his head.

  It didn’t take very long for the once-limp part of him to become stiff in my hand. I continued to stroke him, pulling up from the shaft, rolling my thumb around the stiffened head. Cameron’s hips started to rock and I got an idea. I pulled from under him and turned us so that he was on his back.