Detained in NYC
Copyright© 2025 by Midori Greengrass
Chapter 4
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 4 - 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 AI Generated
Akemi’s husband Mitchell phoned his father as promised. He had more to look after that morning than his job and his marriage, his missing wife, which of course he didn’t mention to his dad on the phone. For one thing, the old man was wrapped up in his own concerns, wouldn’t be interested, instead just annoyed by the interruption of stuff he wanted to say- he’d tell Mitchell he worried too much and the conversation would move on.
His father described, with relish, a give and take, as he called it, with work friends, old ones, about their health problems, vying for whose were worst. One guy talked about his heart and how he’d had to have a stent put in to open an artery. Apparently, Mitchell’s father had broken in to tell that greying late fiftyish type Mitchell vaguely recalled meeting once or more that he had nothing to brag about and recounted his own cardiac adventures.
“I went to the doctor cause I was getting winded, had less stamina than usual.” Here he paused to let the full import of his words hit Mitchell; likely he’d done the same with his coworkers- his ribald humor.
“And he had me take some tests, including a stress thing, where it was found I’d had a heart attack, and then I’d had to undergo an angiogram, the thing where they put a line into your veins to exam the ticker with a camera, and it turned out I hadn’t had one- a heart attack- after all. The AI analysis had made a mistake if you can believe that- I can! But there was in any case some narrowing of the arteries. If it had been worse, they would have had to give me a stent too.”
He paused again to make sure his words were getting through to his son. “I told him, ‘All I’m saying is you think you’ve got troubles?’” His father let out a laugh which turned into a cough.
“So you didn’t need any. I had four,” said his old friend, not to be bested. They were both performing for an audience of other coworkers. Mitchell could picture the scene.
His father had gone on. “I wish they had.” telling his his pal pointedly, “I actually envy you. The doctor said afterward that stents were done only if the blockage is over sixty percent. Anything less and they leave the thing alone. So what happens if it’s fifty-eight percent and soon will get worse, really bad?”
“I have to get to work.” Mitchell had promised to phone is father early, remind him to take some new medicine he was starting, said might slip his mind otherwise- not true; this was just a play for attention, the old man was still sharp, not the type who gets Alzheimer’s, Mitchell knew. He’d kept the promise but didn’t have all day. And worry about Akemi crowded his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn’t really listen to his father then, give the audience he needed. In fact, under the circumstances his father struck him as selfish as hell, a selfish old man. Mitchell didn’t like himself for thinking that, for thinking a lot of things, but there it was.
The cop named Tommy became more aggressive as the conversation proceeded. Akemi could see she was making him angry. But he’d detained her unlawfully!
Laws in her adopted country weren’t what they’d once been.
Clearly, he felt his new power.
“Negotiations?”
“I mean no one’s victimizing you here. Everyone’s equal in this country.”
“Equal?”
“Much as you might not want to believe that. Bet you voted for-” He named the losing presidential candidate. He foresaw Akemi’s objection.”
“Your husband did.”
As a citizen of Japan, Akemi could participate only in elections there.
Tommy didn’t wait for her response.
“Let the process play out,” he said.
“But how long-?” Trying not to get frantic, Akemi softened her voice. Tommy liked the sound of it and lowered his own in turn, shooting for intimacy.
“That’s the thing, right?”
He raised his hand. It wasn’t the mock-threatening gesture of before, but to quiet her- or concede his verbal lapse.
There was confusion, miscommunication. It was constant.
Akemi felt the comparison rise in her mind—she was like a cat pawing at a ball of yarn kept just out of reach. Tommy wanted to watch her try.
“But negotiate?” The pitch of her voice rose audibly. She was trying not to show her fear, sound hysterical.
“You don’t understand?”
“I understand.” It was an English loanword everyone in Japan knew.
“Like when I suggested coffee before and you came back with the thing about green tea. That’s negotiating.”
His grin seemed to slide all over her field of vision, all over her.
“By the way, touché,” he said.
Akemi lowered her eyes, acknowledging the compliment. A smile escaped.
“Look,” Tommy said, his voice soft still, putting on a sudden show of sympathy. “It’s tough in here. I get it. You don’t deserve this kind of treatment.”
“‘Negotiate,’ you said.”
“Maybe the wrong word.”
Akemi wouldn’t let it go.
“Negotiate with who? With you?”
“You can try me. Heh heh. They say I’m a good negotiator. Mutual satisfaction guaranteed. At least my wife doesn’t complain. Ha ha.”
He’s seen her staring at his ring. He fingers it.
“You’re not wearing one,” he says. “Like you don’t carry your Green Card? And what else?”
“My husband and I think a ring isn’t important.”
“Ah, so it is a visa marriage.”
Akemi doesn’t answer.
“Or does he prefer going ringless when he makes a play for one of his college students. Is that how he met you?”
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