The Affair: Consequences

THE AFFAIR

Ginny Davis was desperately lonely...

The first time we met was thrilling. Garrett took away my breath and all rational thoughts. He was older than I was by almost twenty years, and he’d pursued me with a fervor that I’d never before experienced.

Even though Garrett adored me, his demeanor was brooding and dark sometimes. However, the way he treated me made up for it. He had money to spoil me, and I’d grown up poor.  

Still, long after we were wed, Garrett couldn’t let go of his past. I stayed married to him because I really cared about him, and in a way, I felt responsible for his circumstances.

He was struck by a fast-moving car while running across the street to meet me for lunch... If he hadn’t been so distracted.

Andrae Durant was excited to start his new life...

I was thrilled with my new position as the French consulate to the embassy in New York City. I spoke English very well, and at thirty-five, I was also the youngest one to be given that opportunity.

I was brilliant and eager to make a positive impression on everyone I met. While in America, I would stay in a hotel around the corner from the embassy near Central Park. It would be for a day or two at a time on a monthly basis.

The Carlyle was a popular place for the rich and famous, and it would help my career to consort with the elite. So, when the wife of an extremely wealthy man asks a favor of me, how could I refuse her.

Copyright:

Robin Rance retains 100% of the rights and copyright licenses to the manuscript and all other materials found in this book.

Case number under filed under ©Robin Rance2022

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law 2022

Copyright# 1-8851926241

Acknowledgements:

While doing my research for this story, I found it challenging to find information about any of the rooftop restaurants in the city during the 1960s. Everything shut down because of Covid-19, including some of their websites.

However, I still chose to use Hotel McKittrick in this story. I found its history fascinating. When it was first built, it was intended to be New York’s finest and most decadent luxury hotel of its time. Two days after the outbreak of World War Two, its doors were locked and remained that way until 1960.

The people who opened the doors after years of being closed were stunned at what they found. It was like stepping into a time warp. Everything was as they left it at the beginning of the war. 

Emursive is an interactive experience the guests could participate in. I chose that name for the rooftop restaurant.

Dedication:

This story is for anyone who has lived with someone you loved desperately, but they loved someone else.

You are beautiful. Love yourself for who you are.  

The Affair

1960s New York City

Chapter 1

It's a magical thing when a handful of words conjure a picture, perhaps a face from the past, a situation, or a time that affects you deeply...

Genevieve Davis

I climbed out of the bathtub and stood dripping wet and naked in the richly appointed rooms of my apartment in the Carlyle Hotel. The bath hadn't helped my mood at all. It only made the isolation I felt worse.

My husband was one of the few patrons who paid yearly for this residence. However, Garrett no longer came here, except for brief visits. When he did come, his companion, Wayne, accompanied him. They usually shared an apartment on another floor. My husband wanted his privacy, and the freedom to do whatever he wanted without my interference.

He claimed his reasons for paying my living expenses in this hotel, were for my sanity, and not because he no longer wanted me. I felt it was the other way around.

I desperately wished he were here with me now.

He should have been, but he made other plans for this week. Apparently, his promise of spending time with me was long forgotten. He couldn't be bothered to call me on the telephone and tell me. No, he'd sent me a letter. Garrett's message said he was taking a trip to the orient with a few of his closest friends. Was Sasha one of those friends? It shouldn't still bother me, but it did.

For a short time, after his accident, we could no longer have sexual intercourse. He'd found other ways to satisfy me until he was able to resume that act of intimacy. Although lately, he seemed to avoid any kind of physical contact with me. We rarely kissed, and I don't remember the last time we slept together in the same bed.

I glanced at the bed now. It was comfortable and larger than what I slept on when I was at home. Garrett paid a higher price for that comfort. My apartment wasn't large, but it suited my purposes.

In the Carlyle, you paid for luxury and the personable staff who took the time to learn more about their patrons. The rooms here were costlier than most in the city because of the view, the amenities, and the staff's discretion. I regularly saw President Kennedy and his associates in the lobby downstairs. I had also seen him with Miss Monroe in a booth inside Bemelmans bar, and in Café Carlyle. It wasn't unusual to see celebrities, performers, politicians, or foreign diplomats here. The patrons paid for the staff's discretion.

Currently, George Feyer, a well-known Jazz performer, was playing in the Café Carlyle. I had watched his show often. I chose to go to the café tonight because I felt lonely – perhaps melancholy was a better word. And because of my mood, I wanted to do something out of my norm. But what?

I was still naked as I strolled across the room to look at the view from my window. I had a clear picture of Central Park from here. At night, it was covered with sparkling fairy lights strewn through the treetops. During the daytime, the tops of the trees looked like a giant quilt, patterned in different hues of green. In the spring, a variety of blossoms colored every tree.

I loved the autumn season most of all. Not only for the colors but the delicious smells and aromas which filled the air from the different vendors. Candy, cookies, hot cider, and cinnamon–candy apples. Soon the leaves would change to brilliant reds, oranges, and yellows before covering the ground.

When the fog rolled in from the Atlantic Ocean, it looked like a completely different world from up here. Cold, stark, it made everything appear even more isolated–lonelier. No matter the season, my views were always surreal and spectacular.

While standing at the window, I wondered if anyone were to look this way from the high rises across the street, would they be able to see me in my state of undress? Would they care? Did I?

I was nearing forty-two. My husband used to call me too thin, Lynn. Even now, I was tall for a woman but still very petite and shapely. I'd never carried any children to full term, and therefore my breasts and abdomen were still firm and lacked the stretch marks I'd seen on other women. Sadly, I would have given it all up for a child of my own.

Garrett preferred me free of any body hair, a weird quirk he'd picked up from his youth. I found a salon that did the body waxing and used their services often to please my husband. Did he care how painful it was? It didn't matter. He wasn't here to reap the benefits this time, and I'd have to suffer through it again before his next visit.

When I first met my husband, it was in a nightclub in Manhattan. I was there to see Cole Porter. He was making a rare appearance, and I jumped at a chance to see him. My favorite song of his is 'Night And Day,' and I pulled my dinner partner onto the slick marble tiles, as soon as it began. The crowds swarmed the dance floor. Naturally, I wasn't paying any attention to my surroundings. I focused on the words Cole Porter sang.

Suddenly, I slipped on the tiles and found myself falling. It was Garrett who caught me before I landed on the floor. He couldn't take his eyes off me for the rest of the night. My earlier partner was long forgotten after that.

Soon, Garrett and I were seen everywhere together. I was twenty-something, and he was in his forties, nearly twenty years older than I was.

Garrett often said that I was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, with my thick dark hair, and plump lips. I remember him once saying my dark brown eyes were a window into my soul. He would stare into them for hours, saying nothing at all. He once told me he loved to make me laugh, so the dimple that surfaced between my left nostril and upper lip, but only when I smiled, would appear. He took great pains to make me happy. Once upon a time.

I no longer was, but what did I have to smile about? Nothing. I would have given it all up to have him here at my side.

I knew what I wanted to do. In a show of defiance, or stupidity, I opened the window and made a show of stretching my arms above my head. At that moment, if the whole world saw me naked, I didn't care until I realized that I did and quickly stepped back and shut the curtains.

I laughed at my foolish actions and walked over to my closet to peruse my clothing choices. I found the outfit I was looking for, tucked away in the back of my closet. Now that I knew what I was wearing, I could put on my makeup and fix my hair.

I sat down on the bench in front of the vanity mirror. I dabbed my favorite perfume, Lalique, at my temple, the pulse at my neck, between my breasts, and on both wrists. I sniffed the bottle of perfume before closing the lid. I let the scent take me back to the first time, I'd received a bottle as a gift from my husband...

Garrett, I can't accept this, it's too much money. Five hundred dollars for a bottle of perfume is insane. But then so was the lunch we were having, on a yacht off the coast of Puerto Rico.

Darling, you are worth far more than that to me. I want to cover you in diamonds and furs, take you all over the world, and show you every country. There is so much to see. I've seen it all, but not with you. You mean the world to me, Ginny.

I grew up in a poverty-stricken neighborhood in the Bronx. We were desperately poor, and my mother worked herself to death to care for my younger brother and me, while my father worked in the shipyards. He died in the war, and I saw my mother crumble before my eyes when she received the news.

She was never the same after that. My brother Gordon went to work, and I took in ironing and worked in the corner store when I could. However, there were so many women who struggled during that time period; it was challenging to bring in enough money for us to survive.

Until I was introduced to a wealthy family who was looking for a nanny for their two young children. A girl of eleven, and a boy who was three.

I jumped at the chance, of course. It wasn't difficult. The young girl looked up to me, and the boy still slept in a nursery next to his parent’s room. I felt extremely fortunate to be accepted into their extensive home. They treated me as if I were part of the family, even allowing me to decorate my room on the third floor.

On my days off, I could go into the city. I met many girls close to my age, who also worked for the rich or well-to-do. But none were as wealthy as my family, the Carlsbad. I even traveled with them.

The first time we were in France, we stayed on the French Riviera. I was shocked when Mrs. Carlsbad and her sister removed their tops and joined the others on the topless beach. I was encouraged to follow them, but I declined. I said it was because of the children.

They wouldn't listen to my excuse, and Mr. Carlsbad offered to watch them so I could play in the ocean. I knew why he did it. It was so he could stare at my larger breasts.

I was young, but even then, I found it exciting to have a man look at me that way...

I finished applying my makeup and pulled my hair back into a knot at the nape of my neck. I still wore nothing and watched my breasts as they protruded, and bounced before me in the mirror as I brushed through my hair. My nipples grew harder, surrounded by the puckered, darker pink skin.

I dropped the brush on the vanity and ran my fingers across each one of them while watching my actions in the mirror — God, how I wished for a man's mouth on them now. I pinched and pulled, craving more stimulation, but stopped.

It was while I was still in that state of arousal that I got dressed. I slipped on my garter, then sat down on the bed, and slowly rolled each black silk stocking on a leg, before clasping them at the top. I wore no panties and no brassiere. I donned a clingy white top that dipped low in the back–almost to my rear. The material felt soft against my bare skin, and it shimmered under the lights.

Next, I unzipped the flared black skirt and slipped my legs carefully into the garment to avoid having my expensive hose stockings snag on the zipper. I pulled it over my hips, before fastening it in the back. My feet slid into a pair of black pumps with a higher heel than what I usually wore.

I stopped in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, took a deep breath, and turned from side to side. I watched my skirt swirl around my knees as I moved. I turned around to look at the back view. Did my blouse dip too low? It was apparent that I was braless, but it suited my purpose. I reminded myself once again that I didn't care.

I put on the diamond choker that Garrett had given to me on my last birthday, before slipping my hands into a pair of long red gloves. My diamond bracelet went on over my wrist next. Before I left the room, I grabbed my small black clutch purse, dropped my extra key inside, along with my lipstick, and closed and locked the door.

Garrett told me one of the reasons that he wanted me to stay here was to find a companion to spend my time with. I assumed I knew what he was suggesting. I had come across many attractive men in the past but was never brave or bold enough to approach them. I found I never had the courage or a desire to go through with it. Tonight, I felt different. Why? It was partly because Garrett had forgotten his promise to me. But I also knew Garrett was slowly slipping away from me. He no longer tried to make our relationship work, and it hurt like hell.

I might change my mind once I was