JACK OF DIAMONDS

chapter 8, proposed edits

I had to look at this closely because it seemed like the timeline was a little off. Don’t let the strike-throughs throw you off. But again, feel free to add to it. You can work on the sex scene and try to improve on it. You’ll find it’s not an easy thing to write…you just have to have an imagination because throbbing erections and bursting blossoms just won’t do. This was the scene VOCAL banned, because they said it glorified rape. I tried to argue that it was a simple rôle playing game, but they would have none of it. So I refused to put it up.

CHAPTER 8

She could heard the bedroom door opening and held her breath, trying to steady her breathing; and it wasn’t difficult anticipating his needs. as unexpected as his arrival was. Roger He wasn’t trying to be quiet. He’d never be a good thief, she told herself, not now that she’d met Artie. She could sense him Rodger standing at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. For a moment, she wondered what Artie was thinking thought, see watching her invite the man with the a man she professed to suspected earlier of being unfaithful to her. Artie, the living fantasy of their rôle-playing games. watching her as she pretended to sleep.

She peeked through half-closed eyelids, barely able to discern her husband’s figure standing in the soft light of the moon spilling through the French doors. She was unable to couldn’t see his face, not even the small, clipped moustache he’d had since the Great War, or just the gleam of his scalp under the receding hairline. She watched as he slowly removed his jacket and tie.

“Are you awake, Darling? You’d better be,” he added, the threat in his voice almost comical. “Because I’ve come to have my wicked way with you.”

“You’re drunk,” she said, and She pulling ed herself up onto one elbow, and looked at him. A whimsical smile on crossed her face, as she thought about Artie staring down at her the only moments before, he him wrapping ed his arms around her head and pumping ed himself into her—the memory that moment all but now forgotten in the mounting excitement of what was about to happen.

She could see Roger’s eyes dancing in the moonlight, his face gleaming with a sheen of sweat where his hairline used to be. And behind him, she could also see Artie’s silhouette standing out on the balcony behind, standing closer to the open doors, listening, his shadow a smear on the lace curtains blowing in the gentle breeze.

“I’d given up expecting you tonight,” she said absently. “I thought for certain that you’d be staying in London tonight, with her,” she added. “Where’s Simco?”

“I gave him the night off,” Roger said with a grin. “I don’t need him to helping me to undress. I was doing it on my own long before he came along. And as for this her you keep talking about, I told you, there is no her. She’s simply someone you’ve made up in your over-active imagination.”

“A gentleman always has a mistress somewhere,” she said softly.

“Maybe I’m sure he does, but I’m not much of a gentleman, am I?”