The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage - Chapter 22: Chapter 22
You are reading The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage, Chapter 22: Chapter 22. Read more chapters of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage.
When I stumbled on a question I didn't understand, I glanced up to ask him. Our eyes locked, and I saw the hunger in his gaze as he leaned in. My eyelids fluttered shut as his lips met mine.
Lately, I'd been feeling so hollow, my thoughts spiraling out of control. I kissed him back eagerly, my tongue dancing with his as we lost ourselves in the moment. Our mouths clung together, neither of us willing to pull away.
His hand skimmed over my chest at first, testing. When I didn't stop him, he slipped it under my collar, pushing aside my bra to cup my breast. My breathing turned shallow, soft whimpers escaping between kisses.
Still devouring my mouth, he kept one hand busy teasing me while the other slid beneath my skirt. His fingers traced the damp fabric of my panties, teasing—
Then it hit me. That thirty-nine-year-old man's face flashed behind my eyelids. I jerked back with a shudder, shoving his hand away.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, cheeks burning. "I have a boyfriend. I can't do this."
Disappointment flickered across his face before he straightened up. "No, I should apologize. Let's just finish this."
We completed the form in silence.
By eight o'clock, it was time to leave. He watched me go with that lingering look—the kind that makes you hope.
I told myself if I didn't mess things up, we could keep our perfect little bubble. But of course, he found someone new. When he ended things, I didn't fight. Just nodded and took the money he offered.
Alone in that unfamiliar city—no family, no friends—the loneliness ate at me. I needed a fresh start, somewhere far from the hospital where we'd met.
Secretarial work, maybe?
After scrolling through listings, I picked a company and showed up at their door.
"Hi, I'm here about the secretary position."
"Right this way."
The employee led me past a metal shed to a surprisingly sleek office—all polished surfaces and bright lighting. But the spacious room felt oddly empty with just two men inside.
One of them wordlessly gestured for me to follow him upstairs.
"Mr. Chamberlain," his deep, smooth voice announced, "your interview is here."
"Come in."
The chairman wasn't what I expected. Instead of some balding middle-aged exec, I found a fit man under forty—easily six feet tall—waiting behind the desk.
"Miss Laurent," he smiled, motioning to the sofa while he took an armchair. His warm demeanor put me at ease as he reviewed my resume.
After standard questions, he leaned back. "Let's chat informally. May I call you Vivian?"
"Of course."
"Tell me about your family. What do your parents do? Any siblings?"
I answered honestly.
"Boyfriend?"
"No."
His smile widened. "A beautiful girl like you? I find that hard to believe."
I forced a laugh, dodging the implication.
"You carry yourself well. Height and weight?"
"Five-four, ninety-nine pounds."
His eyes traveled over me. "And your measurements?"
Lately, I'd been feeling so hollow, my thoughts spiraling out of control. I kissed him back eagerly, my tongue dancing with his as we lost ourselves in the moment. Our mouths clung together, neither of us willing to pull away.
His hand skimmed over my chest at first, testing. When I didn't stop him, he slipped it under my collar, pushing aside my bra to cup my breast. My breathing turned shallow, soft whimpers escaping between kisses.
Still devouring my mouth, he kept one hand busy teasing me while the other slid beneath my skirt. His fingers traced the damp fabric of my panties, teasing—
Then it hit me. That thirty-nine-year-old man's face flashed behind my eyelids. I jerked back with a shudder, shoving his hand away.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, cheeks burning. "I have a boyfriend. I can't do this."
Disappointment flickered across his face before he straightened up. "No, I should apologize. Let's just finish this."
We completed the form in silence.
By eight o'clock, it was time to leave. He watched me go with that lingering look—the kind that makes you hope.
I told myself if I didn't mess things up, we could keep our perfect little bubble. But of course, he found someone new. When he ended things, I didn't fight. Just nodded and took the money he offered.
Alone in that unfamiliar city—no family, no friends—the loneliness ate at me. I needed a fresh start, somewhere far from the hospital where we'd met.
Secretarial work, maybe?
After scrolling through listings, I picked a company and showed up at their door.
"Hi, I'm here about the secretary position."
"Right this way."
The employee led me past a metal shed to a surprisingly sleek office—all polished surfaces and bright lighting. But the spacious room felt oddly empty with just two men inside.
One of them wordlessly gestured for me to follow him upstairs.
"Mr. Chamberlain," his deep, smooth voice announced, "your interview is here."
"Come in."
The chairman wasn't what I expected. Instead of some balding middle-aged exec, I found a fit man under forty—easily six feet tall—waiting behind the desk.
"Miss Laurent," he smiled, motioning to the sofa while he took an armchair. His warm demeanor put me at ease as he reviewed my resume.
After standard questions, he leaned back. "Let's chat informally. May I call you Vivian?"
"Of course."
"Tell me about your family. What do your parents do? Any siblings?"
I answered honestly.
"Boyfriend?"
"No."
His smile widened. "A beautiful girl like you? I find that hard to believe."
I forced a laugh, dodging the implication.
"You carry yourself well. Height and weight?"
"Five-four, ninety-nine pounds."
His eyes traveled over me. "And your measurements?"
End of The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage Chapter 22. Continue reading Chapter 23 or return to The Woman Trapped in a Sexless Marriage book page.