Read The Coming of Anna (The Manhattan Series) Online
Authors: Leilani Rinder
The Coming of Anna (The Manhattan Series)
THE
COMING OF ANNA
LEILANI
RINDER
The
Manhattan Series
Volume
I
Second
Edition
The
Coming of Anna
Written
by
Leilani
Rinder
Text copyright
© 2012
Leilani Rinder
All Rights Reserved
First edition: 2012
Second edition: 2013
Cover by William Nowers
To my husband who not only taught me to love, but how
to live.
AN UNEXPECTED KNOCK AT THE DOOR
This is the story of Anna. Anna’s
husband leaves her and she feels worthless and broken. Their children are
grown up and moved out on their own. So him moving out leaves her alone and
vulnerable. Enter Anton. Being alone is very difficult for Anna and she finds
herself falling for Anton. Is it love or is she just on the rebound? Then she
finds out a devastating secret about her estranged husband. This secret can
destroy her life. Is Anton there to stand by her or is he only going to use
her like her husband did?
Anna’s husband was always very
cold towards her. She always believed herself to be a warm and caring woman.
But after her divorce Anna finds herself to be frigid and she cannot understand
how she could now have lost all feelings of sexuality. Will she ever be able
to overcome her coldness regarding sex? Especially when she finds out that
Anton had also been keeping secrets from her. Will she trust again?
One night a stranger knocks at
her door. Anna, who has always been seen by everybody (even herself) as a good
girl, does not feel ashamed of baring herself literally and figuratively to
another person. For the first time in her life Anna starts discovering herself
and she likes what she finds.
At first glance Anna seems to
be a woman without morals. But she is not. Anna has just learnt to live an
authentic life in which she does not hide herself behind a mask anymore – at
least not as far as the man she loves is concerned.
Dating and sex after divorce is
a minefield. Anna does a few things right but like all of us she also makes
many mistakes.
Anna discovers not only herself
but also has to deal with the secrets others keep – even murder.
Will she learn to love again,
or is she bound to be hurt over and over again?
Allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Anna. Yes, simple, common Anna. No, not some exotic name as one
would imagine you would find in a story about something as exotic as sex and
relationships. Just Anna.
I am a young, vibrant woman. Yes,
I am in my forties (I am not going to tell you how far into my forties, though).
Granted, it does not sound young but I definitely do not feel old. To me my
divorce has just marked my coming of age.
What do I do for a living? I
teach. A noble profession, some say. I can tell you, it sucks almost as much
as being single. So I guess my life at this point kind of double sucks, since
being a single teacher makes me the one everything is required from. When
there is some function at school, I am asked to oversee everything, since my
married colleagues have families they have to tend to. The fact that I have
children, even though they are grown-up, does not count. Since I do not have a
ring on my finger, it can be expected from me to fill in the gaps everybody
else leave because of their multitude of family responsibilities.
The younger, unmarried teachers
do not get asked either. The only thing expected from them, is to be dating so
they can also become part of the married inner circle.
So why is it not expected of me
to be dating, you might ask. Well, being over forty, a mother and already
exchanged by a man for a younger version, you are now expected to live your
life like a nun, in service of others and just grateful for the opportunity to
do so.
Other people’s view of you as a
sexual being differs. Some, mostly women your age, view you as being on the
prowl for a replacement for the husband you have lost. (It is not that I
really lost him; he just removed himself from my life.)
In the end, the one conclusion
I have come to is that even though it sucks being single, being in a bad
marriage, sucks even more than going through life alone.
After the break-up of my
marriage to Mark, I found a friend whom I came to rely on more than I maybe
should have. Anton was a colleague. Being with him alleviated the loneliness
for a while. But that relationship did not last. I truly believe that I am
better off without him.
I am not looking for another
relationship. My marriage was a disaster that never should have happened. The
only good things that ever came from that were my two children. I now know
that Mark really was not the man for me. I tried to convince myself for many
years that he was my soul mate. The truth of the matter is that I did not want
to admit failure. I did not want to admit to the fact that I had made a
mistake in getting married to him.
The one relationship I had
after our separation, also ended in a bad way. Anton really hurt me and I
ended up leaving the school I was very happy at just to get away from him.
So here I am: single, but not
desperate; alone, but not lonely. I will not say no to love if it comes my way
but I am not going out there looking for it. If I am supposed to love again,
it will have to come and find me.
A
really long day is coming to a close. The kids are writing exams and the
marking is stacked high on my dining-room table. I kick off my shoes and
cannot wait to get the bra off which have been strangling me since just after
second interval. I step out of all my clothes and the feeling of freedom while
I am standing naked in front of my wardrobe, makes me feel like not putting on
anything before I start with my evening’s work. But the vision of myself
sitting in my birthday suit while grading papers makes me smile and blush just
a little. Very quickly and without thinking I grab a pair of boxers I usually
sleep in and a t-shirt from the front of my wardrobe.
I
feel free but alone and the night is still young. My thoughts are confused as
to what to do. I know I need to start on my work but I am so tired after a
long day at work that I feel like just taking a break for once.
I
jump as I hear a knock at the front door. Who can it be? I can hardly
remember the last time anyone knocked at my door. Even though I am always
available for anyone at school, I make sure that nobody has my home address. I
need some privacy, some time to myself.
I
open the door and my mouth falls open in amazement.
“Come
on, Anna, behave yourself. Close your mouth and greet the man,” I scold myself.
Standing
in front of me is a well-dressed man with a likeable smile. My mind goes from
salesman to politician. He is too well dressed to be one of those youngsters
who come knocking with questionnaires and end up trying to convince you to
change your long-distance provider; or whatever type of provider he is working
for that week. He also does not seem like the type to go cold canvassing to
sell insurance. I put my money on politician. He may be starting early,
canvassing for some votes.
He
introduces himself as Thomas and says: "For some unknown reason I had an
urge to knock on your door.”
“Hi,
I’m Anna. Come inside.”
I can hardly believe I just did
that. But for some strange reason it feels like I know him. In fact, it feels
like I have known him for a very long time.
We
sit and talk. The hours fly by while we talk about everything... and nothing.
I soon find out that he is not a politician and he did not knock on my door to
sell me anything; although secretly I wish he had. Then I can buy something
and call him in a few days to say I have a problem with it. I smile on the
inside at my silly thoughts.
I
can hardly believe my own ears when I hear myself sharing so much about myself,
my family, my job, even some secrets with this man I have never laid eyes on
until a few hours ago. We drink coffee and later the coffee is exchanged for a
bottle of wine. We eat some frozen pizza that I quickly heat up in the oven.
We cannot seem to keep our eyes off each other and I for one definitely do not
want this night to end.
One
reads so much about strangers invading single women’s houses, raping them,
killing them. I am supposed to be an example to others. Now I invited a
complete stranger into my house for no apparent reason.
Thomas
leans forward and places his hand on my thigh.
“Thank
you for being so nice. I still have no idea why I knocked on your door this
afternoon. I just went for a walk to wipe the cobwebs from my mind. How was I
to know that I would see the most beautiful woman I have ever seen? And then,
knocking on your door, the nicest person with the most beautiful heart I have
met in a long time, answers.”
I
do not know what to say. I have felt unappreciated and unnoticed for so long.
I look at him and realise that I have no panties underneath my boxers. I see
Thomas’ eyes looking at my pussy as I know my boxers are not covering all of me.
I know I should move my legs to cover myself. I should get up and go put on
something else. But it feels like the lounge room has become a cocoon where
only the two of us exist.
I can feel a wetness coming from between my legs.
What is wrong with me? This is so unlike me that I am starting to scare myself
a bit.
I
lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek. He puts a hand behind my head and draws
my lips close to his. We kiss with adventure, excitement and pleasure, our
tongues deep inside each other’s mouth.
I
did not realise Thomas’ hand had moved underneath my t-shirt, holding onto my
breast. As the sensation of his warm hand on my skin enters my mind, it seems
so natural for me to place my hand on his, holding it to my breast. Slowly his
hand starts stroking my breast. He squeezes my breast and pinches my nipple
with just enough pressure to make me feel the heat rise from my loins.
He
looks at me and says: “I want to undress you properly.”
With
this he slips both his hands to the bottom of my t-shirt, lifting it over my
head in one movement. I keep looking into his eyes as he throws the shirt in
one of the darker corners of the room. I transfer my body from sitting up to
lie down on my back. I did not feel him remove my boxers.
I
watch as Thomas quickly undresses. I can see that he desires more than kissing
or touching my boobs.
Again
we kiss until our lips burn with passion. I feel Thomas’ hand slowly move down
my stomach. His fingers trace circles across my tummy, reaching my breasts and then
going down again, getting closer and closer towards my wet pussy. Thomas is
starting to drive me crazy with me wanting him to enter my wet passage.
