Authors: Lynelle Clark
This is a Revised Edition
Previously published as Lawyer’s Dessert
have read a few books on ménage, and swinging; finding it interesting and fascinating at times. It definitely has its place on the genre shelves. Many couples live this lifestyle as an everyday occurrence. If this is your choice and you are happy with it, I say enjoy. But, I am also curious and often ask questions like:
What about the
Do they know?
What effect does this have on them?
Bella’s Choice was born from these questions and originally written as an erotic story. However, I thought it best to change it and look at it from a different perspective. In
South Africa, there are a great number of people who follow this lifestyle, although hidden in the folds of society. The reason it is hidden is because it’s not acceptable to the normal way of life, and is condemned by the average person. I spent some time on one of the sites available and learned that the people who have chosen this way of life are normal, everyday people with a love for the outdoors and their children, and would do nothing to harm them. Unlike the parents in this book. This is the extreme and has been entirely concocted in my mind. They went overboard, became addicted to the lifestyle, and almost destroyed their children in the process.
Everyone I’ve met within the swinging community are caring parents, always careful about whom they meet with and where, never allowing their children to come to any harm. I have met beautiful couples with a love for the adventurous side of lovemaking when they want more than just the average married life. I must admit that I was surprised to see the huge
number of followers in my country, even in my region. Not long ago, this lifestyle made headlines claiming this fact.
Trust is a major point within this group; you have to be comfortable with each other in order to connect with the right couple or couples; meeting o
n common ground to test the waters, before plunging in and indulging in sex. If this mutual connection does not exist, it will not happen―ever.
It’s a long, sifting process where courting is very important. Not the old fashioned way, of course, but rather
by talking and discovering who these people are. Sharing photographs also helps in the connection part of such relationships. Both husband and wife must be comfortable with the idea of sharing, or it will not advance to the next step.
These are groups of people who like to explore all possibilities but not lose themselves in the process, or cause those around them any harm.
In my story, trust is also a major issue for Anabella―the main character―who suffers from images she’s witnessed at home, which inevitably try to pull her into this lifestyle. She finds herself in situations where she has to defend not only herself, but the choices she makes. It is an individual choice, one that should never be forced on anyone, as is the case with Anabella and her parents.
No matter how carefree and wonderful it all sounds, the consequences can be devastating to those around us. We are not alone in this world; our actions do have reactions that can create much pain and suffering to a certain individual.
This is also a story of forgiveness and moving forward, where the choice is to step away and choose something different, something Anabella would be comfortable with.
Please read with an open mind. If you are easily offended, please do not purchase a copy.
Author Contact Details
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN number: 978-0-620-58843-0
To all the people who believed in me.
I have to say thank you to Paul for all his assistance, and financial support during the writing of this book. There were times I wanted to throw in the towel, but he encouraged me to continue.
To my children: there were times I just couldn’t be there for you, but yet you never complained.
And lastly, to Sandra Valente. You, dear lady, made the impossible, possible. Words can never express how I feel about your support, help and guidance throughout the last stages of the book. You are a godsend.
The fabulous cover was done by Sandra Valente.
nabella emerged from the swimming pool―the rippling water a clear aqua right to the tiled floor―wiping water from her eyes with a brush of her hands, and making sure her hair was neat. She had just swum twenty laps as part of her training program for her upcoming championship and felt good, energized, excited, and ready to compete. She had put in long hours, focused every effort to accomplish this one gold medal; her dream for many years. It would open doors for her future plans and was in reach―she could feel it. Anabella knew she was ready.
“How do you feel, Anabella?” asked Mr. Rhodes, her coach.
“Excellent! I’m not even tired. This was a good workout,” she answered.
“Are your parents bringing you to the venue, or
should I pick you up?”
“They are out of town, so I would really appreciate it if you could pick me up.” Although she could easily drive herself to the championship, she preferred to go with someone. The tension and stiffness of sore muscles after a
hard race brought numbness to her limbs, which made driving almost impossible.
“Then it is settled. I will pick you up at 7am, sharp. Don’t be late,” her coach said sternly.
“I won’t be, Mr. Rhodes.”
“Go and rest, relax this afternoon, and make sure you are in bed early. Don’t worry about anything; all will be fine. You have worked hard these past few months.”
“Yes, sir.” She knew she had worked hard. The sore muscles were evidence, as well as the fact that she had not spent much time with family or friends. She had enough confidence in her abilities not to be worried at all and loved the competitive side of the sport; racing against a good competitor, and the excitement of winning after giving it her all.
There was solitude once you dove into the water, only you and it, and the lane stretching ahead. Sounds of the crowd did not bother her. At moments like these, she could allow the water to enclose her and swim through the currents created by other swimmers. A
n unsurpassed sense of freedom and accomplishment ran through her veins, and the adrenaline rushed through her core, making her feel alive. Here, she felt whole, forgetting everything else. Here, she was in control of her surroundings and her own life. Here, she set the pace, overcoming all fears.
It was her home, the place she felt safe. Over the years, the swimming pool had been the only place she’d considered a safe haven in her otherwise dysfunctional life. How she had longed for a healthy family life, to wrap her arms around a loving father and a caring mother, to tell them about her day, to include them in her life. She sighed as she turned away from the pool, burying the negative thoughts wanting to rob her from her jovial mood.
Confidence radiated from her whole posture and she felt good, really good. She never let on what was taking place within her mind. She never allowed outsiders into her life. She was always the outsider, never part of the family concept. Her only confidence came from who she was, as well as her accomplishments in either sports or academics. However, it neither made her arrogant or self-absorbed.
While Mr. Rhodes was talking, she managed to dry herself and put her sweatpants and top on, ready to go to her house.
“Bye, sir. See you tomorrow at 7am, and thanks.” She respected her coach for his time and devotion where she was concerned. He had put in just as much time as she had the last couple of months during training. She had learned to trust him for all the advice and his continued motivation, and would miss him when she went off to varsity the following year. He had influenced her to study to be a physiotherapist as her passion was to work with people.
“Bye, Anabella. See you in the morning.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Rhodes.”
Once home, she went straight to the shower. The warm water was soothing to her sore muscles and she fully rela
xed under the spray. She was all alone―for a change there weren’t a lot of people in the house. Her parents had gone to a business seminar for the weekend, and would only be back on Sunday evening.
Her two older brothers, Roy and Derek, were not back from
work yet, not that she expected them because they would usually go straight to the pub, or a friend’s house. It was Friday night after all, and their parents weren’t there to arrange their weekend. How she wished they could be a real family. She loved her brothers, but living at home kept them apart and they did not spend time together.
It was not unfamiliar to Anabella to be on her own on a weekend. If her parents were there, they didn’t speak to her anyway, because they would be busy entertaining their friends. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
A long time ago, Anabella had decided not to be part of their lifestyle and because of this, there was no relationship between them. She had learned to distance herself, choosing to rather throw her time and energy into her sport. At first, it was a way out of the house. Now it had become her life; a life she appreciated and cherished.
She had the shower all to herself for as long as she wanted.
Once in her room, she got dressed, brushing her hair until it shone. Music played softly from the radio and she sang along with the well-known song.
Suddenly her cell phone rang, disturbing the stillness, but she smiled. The Caller ID showed it was her best friend, Monica. Of all her friends, she was closest to her, and was the heart of the group with her sparkling personality; always busy arranging parties or schemes, especially where boys were concerned.
Anabella trusted her as she was the only one who knew what was really going on at her house. Not that she ever allowed her to come over. For that, she was too ashamed, but she knew enough and was always close. When things got really bad, she could always turn to her. Although Monica was a cheerful person and looked like a ‘dumb blond’, she had shown maturity in a lot of things over the years, something that was not well known in their group.
“Hi, Bell! You in the mood for a party at my house tonight?”
She could hear Monica was excited―almost out of breath because of it―and she could see her, as if she was standing right in front of her. However, Anabella did need to rest. Her muscles were still stiff after the practice.
“Not tonight, Moni, I really need to rest. Tomorrow is a big day and I must be in top form,” she said with a sigh, smiling because of her friend’s anxiousness.
Bell, do come, please, even if it is only for an hour or so.” Monica sounded very eager, almost desperate.
What was she up to again?
“Moni, I can’t come, please understand.”
Bell, pretty please, a hunk of a guy is here, a friend of my brother’s, and I want you to meet him. Please come.”
In the background, Anabella could hear a shout, as if someone was screaming at her.
“Please, Bell!” It was Monica’s brother, Tim. He was twelve years older than they were and a lawyer, working for a well-known law firm in the city. Again he shouted in a deep voice, laughing, “Please, Bell, come!”
Anabella smiled at this and then said, “All right, Moni, but only for an hour. I do need to have a good night’s rest.” Reluctantly, she gave in. She knew her friend would not stop until she said yes. Her friend’s family was like a real family to her. Over the years, she had learned what it was like to have parents, and many times she would find herself crying afterward, longing for parents like theirs.
“Great. I expect you at seven, and you can leave at nine. Will that be early enough?” There was relief in her voice.
“Yes, that’ll be fine. Thanks for the invite. See you later.”
With an hour to spare, she stood in front of her closet. She took out a light, cream-colored winter dress with three-quarter-length sleeves. It fell to just above her knees. There was still a chill in the air this late in September and she didn’t want to be cold. Long, dark-brown boots completed her outfit. Her long, straight, dark-brown hair hung loose over her shoulders. Even after the winter, she’d kept her tan, which was noticeable on her face, knees and forearms.
She left the house at ten to seven as Monica only lived fifteen blocks from her. It was already dark outside, and stars dotted the sky. A light breeze ruffled through her hair but it wasn’t freezing, which she was glad about. It had been a long time since she had seen her friends, and maybe it would be good to see them all
again. She got into her silver Renault Clio, a gift from her parents on her eighteenth birthday. To say she had been stunned to find the car parked in the driveway the morning of her birthday would have been putting it mildly. She had not seen either of them for almost a week, so Roy and Derek handed her the keys.
She’d spent a great morning with them, driving them to the nearest Mugg and Bean, enjoying breakfast together. Like ordinary young people, they laughed about silly stuff. No one mentioned the always absent parents. They had spent the previous night with friends and didn’t return home until two days later. It was good to hear her brothers laugh and be the young handsome men they were. Normality was not a word which described them, but on that day they had come very close to it. They even took a few photos together, which had been framed and now hung in her room. They reminded her that if they tried hard enough, they could be a regular, happy family, the one thing she craved the most.
She had an air of confidence about her, but at the same time she was very humble and shy. Through life’s trials, she had learned not to boast in her own abilities but to stay in the background and do her own thing. She had been forced to learn to stand on her own two feet, and not depend on her parents. They never cared, or were interested in her life. Although they took great care of her material needs, they emotionally distanced themselves, which bordered on abuse. Their own life and lifestyle was all that mattered to them. Her brothers would protect her at times but only to some degree, before they would leave her alone to fight or fend for herself. She loved her brothers, and she knew there were a lot of sacrifices they had to make to adjust to their parents’ way of life, but she could never pay that price.
Her innocence was precious to her. It was a significant issue, or rather an embarrassment to them, especially her mother. They thought she was uptight. She was always proud of the fact that she could still be a lady, watching Mrs. Richter, who played a huge role in her life. Her example of grace and humbleness was the measure of a woman, which made Anabella determined to be similar. She wanted to be graceful, elegant and have respect for herself, with a husband who would adore her. From teachers and classmates she only received respect and admiration.
In less than two months, she would complete her schooling. She looked forward to the following year as she would be attending the University of Cape Town where she would study physiotherapy, with her main focus in sports. She had always loved sports; there wasn’t one she had not tried at one time or another. She liked the commitment, the discipline it brought into her life, and the joy of competing. When competing in a team sport or as an individual, she felt that she was accepted for who she was as a person. In the beginning, it was a way to escape her home life, but now it had become her lifestyle.
Aldrich was standing at the big living room window looking out at the parking area when the silver Renault Clio pulled up and stopped. At first, he only saw long, booted legs appearing out of the car, and then the girl climbed out and stood up. She was a beauty from where he stood. She walked to the house until she reached the door and knocked. Illuminated by the light of the porch, he could see she was definitely a beauty, a tall beautiful girl with long, straight hair. This had to be Anabella. He had heard so much about Monica’s swimmer friend.
Tim had also mentioned her often, especially over the last month, to the point of nagging. At first, Aldrich hadn’t wanted to go but Tim kept on, convincing him. Tim had said he wanted to introduce him to someone special, a friend of Monica’s. He had met Monica a few times over the years, and knew she was much younger. That would make her friend the same age and he was not in the mood for babysitting. However, if this was the same girl, she was not only very young, but a very pretty young girl.
Perhaps I will stay a while and check things out. If nothing comes of it, I can always leave
She was graceful in movement and strength, not typical of a girl her age, so it caught his attention.
She is definitely young, maybe eighteen,
he thought. Maybe too young, but Tim had insisted he must meet this girl.