'The Megan Affair-Part Two'

The Megan Affair-Part Two is now available to download in the Amazon Kindle store Part two picks up the story of John and Sarah's failing marriage with the introduction of his mistress, Megan. If unpredictable storylines and highly explicit erotica are your thing, why not check out the first 1000 words in this free sample of The Megan Affair-Part Two?

"Sit down and shut the fuck up lady. This is my house, my husband, my fucking rules!"

The efforts I’d gone to over the previous ten hours to calm my nerves were rendered useless the moment Megan apologised her way through my front room door. It was mid-morning by the time they returned, I’d stolen four or five hours of shitty sleep; worn out by a vodka-fuelled bout of housework. It was barely visible anything had happened the night before, except mine and John’s bruised bodies and the tense mood which hung between the three of us.

My eyes were fixed on Megan. JI heard John shuffle to the couch, then the familiar muffled crunch as he sank into it. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was young, probably around half our age. Average height and slim, yet even through her layers of clothing, I sensed a figure which went in and out in all the right places. I watched her facial expressions and body movements intently. Megan nervously perched on the edge of an armchair next to the couch. She glanced at me, briefly offering an apologetic half smile. Other than that, she looked directly at the floor. Megan was clearly uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in. A strained silence dominated the room, until John broke it for no good reason.

"Shall I get a drink?" He gripped the arm of the couch, as if he was about to stand up, but I corrected his idiotic suggestion.

"Shut the fuck up and stay there." I said firmly in a lowered tone. He retreated back into the couch, Megan wriggled in her chair, trying to find a comfortable position. I reached for my cigarettes.

"Megan, my name's Sarah" I said quietly, "do you smoke?" She looked up and shook her head.

"Megan, do you smoke?" I repeated slightly louder, eager to hear her voice.

"No." Megan cleared her throat and spoke quietly. I pushed down on the flint, watched the flame rise, and filled my lungs with glorious smoke.

I still couldn’t take my eyes off of Megan, I was more fascinated than I’d expected to be. She had long, dark brown hair, almost black but not quite. It looked messy, like she hadn’t planned to come out and just made the best of it. Her skin was lightly tanned, she wore very little make up and seemed to have a natural energy about her. She was the kind of girl you’d look twice at, out of sexual interest or general curiosity. She was wearing black skinny jeans, with a khaki jacket over a plain white t-shirt and Sketchers trainers, which looked slightly out of place on her because they weren’t as stylish as the rest of her outfit. Megan had a well-bred and intelligent look, with the appearance of the kind of girl who spends a lot of time reading. Perhaps the black canvas bag which rested by her feet was full of books. Most normal women would have slapped her or clawed her eyes out for what she'd done with John. But I felt no aggression towards her, only curiosity.

I crossed my legs and leant back in the dining chair opposite Megan, watching her hands fidget listlessly, I inhaled another lungful of smoke. The flurry of apologies she made when entering the house played over and over in my mind. And the animosity between them. She couldn’t even look at him. They’d been arguing about something.

"You said he didn't tell you about me?" I asked, picking up on something she muttered when she first entered. Megan flicked her eyes towards me and shook her head.

"Megan, please speak to me. You must understand that I'm not angry with you at all. But I need to know what that bastard has been telling you."

"I'm..." She began

"Oh please…" John cut in, exasperated.

"Fuck. Off!” I screamed in a hoarse voice, my right fist slammed into the table, crushing my cigarette. “Get out John, I want to speak with her alone." I continued in a calmer tone.

"Jesus." John stood up. "Can't I just..."

"No." I interrupted. "Get out."

Megan closed her eyes and leant back in the chair. I could tell the poor girl didn’t want to be there. John put his hand on her knee as he passed, she quickly batted it off and turned away from him. I locked the living room door and fetched another glass from the sideboard, pouring two large vodkas.

"Here, let's have a drink together." I smiled, handing her a glass. "Don't be afraid of me Megan, I'm not angry with you. This is all his fault."

"I know." Her eyes widened, she sipped her drink and looked at me. "I'm so sorry Sarah. I really am, so, so sorry." She shook her head, fumbled with her glass and sighed loudly. 

"I had absolutely no idea he was married!" She breathed out heavily and groaned. "I feel so stupid I didn't notice. And guilty." She hastily added at the end. “I feel so fucking guilty and angry.” Megan spoke quickly and struggled to stay calm.

"So when did he tell you?" I asked.

"He didn't." Megan looked at me cautiously out of the corner of her eyes. "I thought he told you what happened?"

"No." I responded with pursed lips. "He said he told you last week. That he's married and that he's going to leave me." I could feel my pulse quicken.

"No, no. No. Not at all." Megan laughed ironically, then continued.

"He came to see me last Wednesday, we went for a meal and that’s when I noticed." She leaned forward and spoke in a relaxed tone.

"Noticed what?"

"His ring.” She paused momentarily. “He had a fucking wedding ring on.” I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"He'd never had it on before, I would have noticed it. We were at a restaurant and he went to hold my hand across the table. As soon as he put his hands out, I saw it. He must have followed my gaze, because his face went white and he tried to pull his hand back under the table. But I gripped his fingers and stopped him." I leant forwards, elbows resting on my knees, taking it all in.

"I remember it so clearly. We sat looking between each other and the ring. It went on for ages, neither of us spoke. Then I asked him why he had a wedding ring on. He stammered, something John had never done before, then he came out with this wild story about how it wasn't a wedding ring, and he just put it on the wrong finger. So I got up and walked out."

"You just walked out?" I asked.

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