Miranda Kim - Sex Stories

Miranda Kim

... All within two years of being on the verge of being fired.” She stabbed a finger at me. “Without him, you were nothing Miranda. Nothing. Just another beautiful woman who was going to sleep with her boss to keep her job.”

“Why all this vitriol?” I asked.

“Because you’re trying to say you did all this on your own,” she moved her arm around, indicating my office suite. “I was hoping for a little more gratitude for the man who made it happen.”

“It was a deal,” I said, setting my teeth. “Jack also impregnated me – twice. My daughter is now sixteen. And my son is eight.”

“They’re also Jack’s children. Have you told them that?”

“Of course, not! Stan thinks they’re his, and Jack wanted it that way.”

Farah suddenly sat back in her chair and unbuttoned her jacket. I saw her white chiffon blouse was damp around her nipples – she was lactating! But she was slim, trim, and fit – she wasn’t pregnant, she must have delivered recently.

“You’re breastfeeding,” I said. “Jack’s baby?”

“Yes, my second by him. Like you.”

Her eyes went moist. I could see she was on the verge of tears and trying hard to hold them back.

“Why are you here now?”

“I’m here to tell you something. It wasn’t in the news, all traces of it were buried.” She sniffed. Now the tears that were threatening to flow spilled out of her eyes and down her cheeks. “Jack is dead. He was killed a few weeks ago. His father-in-law, Reginald St. James orchestrated it.”

“No,” I said, thunderstruck. ...

... “That’s impossible.”

“I wish it wasn’t true. But it is.”

“I read about St. James. He sexually assaulted you and you killed him. It was ruled self-defense, it was in all the headlines.”

“Yes,” she said. She wiped her eyes and they hardened. “I’m glad I killed the bastard.”

I sat back in my chair. It was hard to accept that Jack was dead – he had seemed indestructible.

“Well!” I said. “Jack’s dead. The way he carried on, I suppose it was inevitable.”

“When was the last time you saw Jack?” Farah asked.

“Eight years ago,” I said. “When he impregnated me the second time – and gave me my son.”

*

I handed my boarding pass to the gate agent, hoping desperately. I was on the last flight out and I could see the whirling snowflakes outside through the glass behind the check-in counter. The snow was accumulating on the tarmac and many flights on the departures board had already been canceled.

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” said the gate agent. “Your flight is canceled. We'll re-book you on the first flight tomorrow.”

“But where will I stay overnight? The airline will put me up in a hotel, right?”

“No, I'm afraid not, ma'am,” said the gate agent apologetically. “Bad weather is an Act of God. We are not responsible.”

“But I can't afford a hotel!”

“I'm sorry, ma'am,” said the gate agent, clearly keen to get to the next customer. “You can stay in the airport till tomorrow. It's the best we can do.”

The gate agent returned my boarding pass and I turned away. I was ...