An erotic short story
Published on April 10, 2015
It's Halloween and Lucy's husband Graham has once again disappeared with his red haired mistress. But, before Odessa's rendezvous with her beloved, she does the unthinkable and takes her daughter–the child fathered by Graham– trick-or-treating at Lucy's house.
Lucy is a distraught until she gets another unexpected knock on her door. It's Mark Lewis, her husband's co-worker and the one man she's never been able to resist.
What's the harm in just one more illicit night with Mark? Lucy deserves that much, or does she?
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Lucy peeled the wrapper off another chocolate and decided she’d take off her stupid store bought witch’s costume, pour herself a good stiff drink, and call it a night after reading just one more chapter. No, on second thought why wait on that drink. She poured a gin and ginger and then plopped back down on the couch with her book.
The heroine’s breasts were heaving in excitement over finally seeing the hero’s steely shaft when Lucy was rudely interrupted by that damn doorbell. She sighed and placed the open book on the side of the couch, quickly adjusting her pointy witch’s hat before opening the door.
“Trick-or-treat!” A chubby little butterfly grinned up at her.
“What a beautiful costume.” Lucy dropped one of the good chocolates in the little girl’s plastic pumpkin treat bag.
“My Daddy says I’m the prettiest butterfly ever.” The child’s bedazzled butterfly wings and rhinestone studded leotard and tights definitely weren’t off the rack from the five and dime Halloween aisle. Someone had put a great deal of work into crafting the perfect little girl butterfly attire. Lucy dropped an extra candy in her pumpkin.
“I believe he’s right.”
“Thank you,” the little girl chirped. “Are you Daddy’s maid?”
“Excuse me?” Lucy stammered.
The little girl tilted her head and looked up at Lucy as if she were harshly judging her store bought witch’s attire. “Mommy’s more pretty than you.”
“Prettier, I’m prettier.” A tall redhead stepped out of the shadows cackling like a witch. “That’s enough, Amalie. Thank the nice lady and go on to the car.”
“I already did thank her,” the little girl said, staring up at her mom.
Lucy’s smile evaporated as the redhead pulled off the mask and they locked eyes. This wasn’t just any redhead, this was her, Graham’s mistress from across the bay.
Standing there barefoot, Lucy guessed the woman to be even taller than Graham. If not for her height, she would have been nothing more than a wisp of a girl in an almost sheer chiffon buttercup yellow gown that clung to her lanky frame. She was all hair and long legs with her red curls falling every which way in swirls of crimson.
So, this was the infamous Odessa and Graham’s illegitimate daughter; the child born from an affair with her husband. Lucy searched the little girl for traces of Graham and her breath caught in her throat when she recognized the hawkish deep-set eyes behind the mask. The child wasn’t blond and she didn’t have Graham’s dimpled smile. But, there was no denying the fact that from what she could see the little one bore a striking resemblance to Graham’s mother. She had his mother’s muddy brown hair and half-hearted smile.
“Amalie, go to the car,” the redhead repeated.
Lucy watched the little girl turn and go to a car she recognized all too well. There was no mistaking the custom gold paint job of the Mercedes that had once been owned by her husband. The child hadn’t flitted like a butterfly and she didn’t slam the car door. She moved with the same self-conscious manner that often left Lucy feeling like she’d been tiptoeing over eggshells, never doing anything exactly quite right.
Odessa smiled as she brushed away a strand of red hair, and Lucy saw the platinum band on the other woman’s ring finger. That took some nerve, faking a bond that didn’t exist. Not when it was her name beside her husband’s – Graham and Lucille Edwards – on the marriage license and a gorgeous two-carat ring on her own finger.
A searing heat still crept across her chest all the way up to the tips of her ears. Why at this moment of all moments, when confronted by the little trollop, did she have to have a damn hot flash? Mother Nature’s nasty way of reminding her of the years she had on the much younger other woman.
Lucy took a deep shaky breath and looked right into the redhead’s too green eyes. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“I most certainly do.”