Detained in NYC
Copyright© 2025 by Midori Greengrass
Chapter 27
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 27 - An artist is caught up in the dragnet.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Ma/Ma NonConsensual Heterosexual Fiction Cheating Cuckold Wife Watching White Male Oriental Female Oral Sex
“Your turn.”
Nelson decided he’d been doing too much of the talking. Ordinarily, he’d have kept on, happy to let the listener adjust. But for Akemi he made an exception.
“What should I talk about?”
“Everything.”
Akemi laughed, her mouth behind her hand.
“I don’t know where to start with ‘everything.’”
Nelson liked her coy look. It was new in his experience of her.
“With you and your husband.”
“Mitchell?”
“He doesn’t tell me much.” That was true. Nelson’s friend had never offered details of the marriage, at least not the kind he wanted.
Akemi had no idea how their cross-country phone conversations went. All she ever overheard was Mitchell’s side and of course it was in English. She didn’t actively eavesdrop, wasn’t especially curious about the give and take between the two men, and on the few occasions she did listen she quickly abandoned the effort as too much trouble or hopeless. Mitchell spoke colloquially with Nelson, used slang she’d never studied. And there was a lot of silence on Mitchell’s end. His former college teacher seemed to monopolize the conversations.
As her husband often did with her.
Nelson was urging Akemi to speak up now and she saw no reason not to.
“He’s funny. He talked to me about his teaching yesterday. He made up a lesson for students on the spot, said first he told them ‘I need to leave for a minute to do something. I’ll be right back. Talk among yourselves.’ And when he returned he said, ‘Okay let’s start” and then, ‘I didn’t really have to do anything. It was just my dramatic sense.’ He’d gone out so he could come back in and make an entrance. He’s really funny.”
“Don’t stop,” Nelson said, indulgent, a little jealous about Akemi’s feeling for her husband, which was obvious now. She looked transported by it.
“The lesson was for students to think on their own and each write down three things: the most important change in the world in the last ten years (what they thought it was), the most important change in their own lives and finally, the most important part of English for them to learn.
“He thought the last would help him with his teaching,”
“Right.”
“He’d get ideas about what he should focus on.”
“Interesting.”
Akemi glanced at Nelson’s eyes to see if he meant that.
“Then he would have the students, after they’d made their lists, form groups and talk about them and decide which of the things they’d chosen were the most important, rank them.”
“Sounds like work the students would enjoy, get something from,” Nelson said.
“The problem, Mitchell told me, was that he didn’t know what he’d do with them afterward. He says that’s where he usually has trouble. He doesn’t want to leave lessons hanging.
“He said he could have the students each chose one of the topics they’d discussed in the group and write about it, but then he’d be ‘forced’ to bring the papers home and correct them, which would take time he doesn’t like to spend.”
Akemi laughed, her eyes crinkled, and she put her hand in front of her face again, feeling she shouldn’t show her affection for her husband so openly since it was Nelson she was visiting. That wouldn’t be polite. She ought to instead give him her attention. But her laughter and delight at the man to whom she was married showed in her eyes.
“I want to hear more about you,” Nelson said, keeping to himself whatever he was feeling.
Akemi looked baffled.
“You!” he repeated with a grin.
In fact, Akemi was glad to change the subject. Talking with another man about Mitchell felt wrong somehow, and even worse, the more wrong it felt the more enjoyable she found it. Nelson made her feel reckless, nihilistic.
“Tell me about your day.”
“What about it. You mean everything?” Akemi laughed for him.
“It isn’t finished,” Nelson said, smiling in return, meaningfully.
“So far, then?”
“So far.”
The clock on the bedside table read only two-seventeen.
Akemi straightened her posture. “I came here from the studio, where I went to see how a painting is drying.”
“No, no,” Nelson interrupted. “Back. Before that.”
Akemi fought off the inner protest, disappointment at his seeming lack of interest in her art work, which until then he’d spoken of respectfully treating her as almost an equal.
“Begin at the beginning,” Nelson insisted.
Akemi looked at him hard for a moment. He looked right back, and her emotion softened.
“Beginning where?”
“Starting with the morning. We’ll see how far we get.”
“Morning coffee-”
Akemi stopped, looked at him doubtfully.
“I don’t want to bore you.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.”
“The machine started from a timer-”
Nelson interrupted and impatience did show.
“How about before the coffee?”