--Writer's notesβ
This is a rewriting of the Ch. 01 originally published.
Huge thanks to BrokenBrumbyGirl for editing the story!
English is not my native language, so I apologize in advance for any errors.
This is my first time writing something, so don't expect a master piece. In the same line, I would welcome all the feedback that you can provide.
I intend the story to be about the corruption of a housewife by someone other than her husband. If that's not your kind of story read under your own risk.
This is a slow burn story, at least at the beginning, so you must be patient. I'll do my best to make it worth it.
*****
Chapter 1: Neglected Wife
It had been a month since my 40th birthday. I never made any close friends at work, so the only celebration I had was at home. Hope gave me a little pendant and said I should wear some jewelry every now and then. Frank gave me a cookware set that he had seen on TV.
It was Monday and I only had to work the morning hours, so I was in my office thinking about what to cook for lunch. That's how I always started my weekly routine. It was monotonous and boring, but I was so accustomed to it that I hadn't noticed. My life was stripped of excitement and my only joy came from successful projects at work and watching my little girl grow.
Frank and I had never been an adventurous couple. We didn't do much traveling nor did we spend many nights out. Coming from the families we came from, our time in bed was always quite the same. We didn't know any better and we didn't bother to learn. I never had that mind-numbing sensation in the bed that my coworkers sometimes talked about, but it didn't matter, we were in love.
Over time, our relationship began to wear off. We didn't talk as much as we did before and we made love even less often than before. It happened so slowly that I didn't notice. I just got used to it, as I did with everything else.
The telephone rang and brought me back from my thoughts.
"Emily Turner speaking. How can I help you?" I said answering the call.
"Hello Ms. Turner, my name is James Black. I want to advertise one of my properties and a friend of mine gave me your number."
Lately I had done a couple of works for real state companies and, apparently, it was paying off.
"Sure Mr. Black. What exactly do you need?"
"I have a small house in the outskirts of the city. I'm not using it right now and I thought I may rent it for events or parties."
"I think I can help you with that. Do you think we could meet this weekend?"
"Sure. Is Wednesday afternoon alright?"
"Yes, it's perfect. Do you have our address?"
"I do, thank you." He paused for a second. "But I just had an idea, why don't we meet at the property? That way you can start thinking about what to do."
It seemed like a good idea, so I accepted. Mr. Black gave me the address of the house and, after we set the meeting for four in the afternoon, we ended the call.
At home I made lunch for Hope and me and spent the afternoon doing some extra work on my last project. When it was getting dark, I started cooking dinner so it would be ready when Frank arrived. I told him about my possible new project while we were eating but his only answer was to nod and a smile.
On Wednesday I wore my best pant suit and took extra time to do my hair. Being presentable on the first meeting was always important to me. Around 3:30 I left my office and drove to the house. I had to take the highway going out of the city and, while driving there I noticed that I had seen the place before. It hanged at the edge of a small mountain and was visible from the road. My daughter would always mention it as we drove by on our vacations.
Although it was visible from the highway, you had to take an exit and drive uphill on a rode surrounded by forest to reach the property's entrance. When I got there, the main gates were opened, and a luxurious car had just finished parking.
When the car's door opened, a tall man emerged. He was wearing a suit that fitted him well so I could see he was fit. He had olive skin and his factions made me think of an Italian boy that went to primary school with me. Despite looking serious and kind of mature, he couldn't be more than 35 years old. He stayed by his car as he watched me park.
"You must be Ms. Turner." He said once I got out of my car. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine." I said shaking the hand that he had just extended to me.
"Let me show you the property and then we can sit down and talk."