The Mistress - an Erotic Noir Novel Read online

  FALSE SHADES

  J.E. AND M. KEEP

  This book is intended for sale to Adult Audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and graphic language. All sexually active characters in this work are of legal age. Over 40,000 words.

  If you require content warnings: this particular story contains cheating, age-play, BDSM, affairs, promiscuity, and male/female sex.

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  To our friends who didn’t judge, readers of The Keep back when we were first starting out, and Darknest Fantasy Erotica who encouraged us to keep going.

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Eva wasn’t ready to devote herself to one person.

  She was a brilliant woman who had a bright future ahead of her, and liked having a choice of men.

  That is, until her favourite lover’s wife is killed.

  Sex. Intrigue. Mystery.

  Eva quickly realizes that the men who lust for her have dark secrets of their own, and they threaten to consume her whole.

  An erotic thriller. Contains non monogamy, cheating, infidelity, roleplay, ageplay, and some light BDSM.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS

  RECOMMENDED FOR YOU

  MORE BY J.E. & M. KEEP

  BIOGRAPHY

  Chapter 1

  New England was experiencing a cold chill that January as the psychology department kicked off its little celebration party. It was supposed to be something general to welcome in the new semester, but instead it ended up being focussed around one individual in particular. It had grown late for a department function, and all that remained other than her were the four gentlemen on staff.

  Each with a certain glint in their eye as they listened to the brilliant young woman that so stole all of the attention from the room. All of them but Martin, her old friend, were several times her age, and the fact they lingered this long was testament to her ability to capture attention on the topic of their shared passion.

  “You never cease to intrigue,” crooned Samuel Turing, the rather hawkish pharmacological expert, his hair so starkly white and eyes almost predatory.

  “Or captivate,” responded the handsome British doctor, Terrance Russell, newest to the faculty with his sleek black hair and old world charm.

  Her friend, Martin Hale, merely gave her that meek, proud smile he always did when she delivered another brilliant point of contemplation.

  Though it was the head of the department, Dr. Gregory Sinclair, so soft spoken, but dashingly handsome in his fine suits and silver hair, that stepped up beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder lightly, drink in hand. “In a semester's time she’ll be our latest graduate student here in the department, gentlemen. Keep an eye on her,” he said with a certain twinkle, “she’ll be gunning for your jobs in no time.”

  The two other doctors chimed in almost simultaneously, “Thank God for tenure.”

  With a muted chuckle Sinclair declared, “I really must be going now though, the hour is late.” Looking to the woman of the hour he said pleasantly, “A moment of your time just outside the door before I go, if you please. Need to inform you a bit on some things you’ll need to know for your final semester as an undergraduate.” It was all said with such ease and innocence, she could almost believe it despite knowing the truth.

  Eva rolled her eyes for the benefit of the others as she slid from her spot, “Ah, work is never done, is it,” she smiled good naturedly. Her brown hair was cut short in the style of many of the actresses of the day, her curls lovingly framing her face and making her wide, brown eyes look even larger. Her charcoal coloured clothes were of fine, tailored make, and though no one could say it was scandalous, the curves she hid beneath them were. Rather than the loose flapper style of the less educated masses, her blouse and skirt were fitted.

  She was a proper lady, made up just enough to accentuate her natural beauty, without seeming cheap or tawdry. “It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen. To a wonderful new semester filled with impossibly bright breakthroughs and more of these lovely soirees,” she tipped her head, her matching grey hat shielding her eyes for a moment.

  Before she could go Dr. Russell spoke up, with drink raised towards the young woman, “Ah, I do hope you aren’t planning to take off Eva,“ he smiled charmingly, “Old Sinclair there isn’t the only one amongst us with business to discuss with you, I’ll have you know.” The hawkish Turing have a nod affirming that.

  Sinclair gave a light laugh, “I was only planning to steal her attentions for but a moment as I got ready,” he said, moving out the door.

  All the while her friend Martin looked a bit consternated, his blue eyes flitting between the old men desperate for her attention.

  “We’ll see how true that holds,” she smiled brightly, “and play the rest of the evening by ear.” She was a confident young woman, as bright and beautiful as any, and even—or perhaps especially—in a room a men, did she shine.

  Heading outside the department meeting room, the tall, handsome silver haired Sinclair gave her such a smile. Like her, he was refined and dignified. His displays were so muted and subtle, but powerful. Behind his glasses she could see a certain spark there. “Eva, I trust I’ll be seeing you in a week’s time at my place,” he said, his soft-spoken voice managing to be intriguingly suggestive as he put on his overcoat and began to wrap his scarf about himself, “a private study of Freud’s psycho-sexual theories is overdue for us, I believe.”

  Her lip quirked as she stepped to his front, watching him dress with some fascination. “At what date and time did you have in mind? A week is an awfully long time to wait,” she teased, dark humour twinkling in her eyes. Her voice had gone low, not so skilled as he at hiding her own desires.

  His own lips contorted just so as he did up his coat and pulled his gloves on, “A week exactly from today, at six in the evening. There shall be something of a little dinner party happening then, and I could use the distraction from the doldrums of my wife’s associates and social climbers.”

  “Ah, well isn’t that delightful for the little missus,” she crooned as her gloved fingers went to his collar, righting it and patting it against his chest, lingering there over-long, “I will make the arrangements then. Will we be dining before working?”

  With a shrug of his brows the handsome older gentleman donned his hat and reached out, brushing his gloved fingertips against her elbow in such a casual yet meaningful way. “I suppose time shall tell, no? See you then, miss Perkin’s,” he tipped his hat, “and be careful not to leave them waiting in there too long, they’ll turn cannibalistic,” he remarked a bit wryly as he turned to leave.

  “Might be better they should,” she grinned, her heels clicking on the floor as she took a step back. “Would make for a lovely thesis topic.” Her gloved hand gripped the knob, and once more returned to the small, dwindling party, “Ah, for once he was short with me!”

  The handsome, sleek black haired Russell chimed in, “Sinclair? Short with someone? I can’t imagine that soft-spoken old gentleman doing such a thing,” he remarked, playing on her words with a toothy smile.

  Turing butt in immediately, giving the meek Martin no time to do anything but smile at her lightly. “I do hope that Sinclair hasn’t filled you
r head with too many of his schemes yet, Eva. There’s more the department can offer you besides his take. Pharmacology is the future,” he said, raising his drink to her.

  She laughed good naturedly, shaking her head, “Ah, if only I had the time to become an expert at it all. I might never leave this place, spending eternity learning and being taught by my superiors.” Though she spoke with the professors, her gaze fell to her friend, a wry smile saved just for him, “And I doubt father would be willing to pay for an eternity of education.”

  The young—comparatively, he still had nearly a decade on her—Mr. Martin Hale didn’t seem to know what to make of her wry smile, looking a bit dumbfounded.

  The other two men though swept in about her. Russell reaching out to touch her shoulder, “Nonsense, Eva. You’ll be riding high on scholarships I imagine. And with a freedom to do as you wish for the long haul! And that, darling lady, is why you should consider me as your mentor rather than these old fools,” he said with a cheery smile that always managed to disarm people when he insulted them.

  Turing, for his part, gave an irritated grump at that remark, “You’ll be doing your Master’s degree soon, Eva. You really should take some time to explore what the pharmaceutical side of psychology has to offer. How about we take a bit of time to go to my office and discuss it now, hm?”

  Before she had any time to respond Russell brushed off the request, “Nonsense! Your drugs can wait, they’re all nonsense anyhow. How about we go to my office and speak of the future?” With a dashing smile, the dark haired foreign professor looked quite charming, while the hawkish Turing looked intense, were they not such civil types she could almost swear it’d turn to violence.

  She laughed, enjoying the rivalry before the two, “Ah, you’ll both tear my arms off trying to get me to follow, yet you both know I’m fascinated in all aspects and theories. I’ll explore with both of you, but you simply must be more patient.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked between the two. “Now, would it make you both feel better if I set up appointments to discuss, at your hearts leisure, the benefits and glories of both your fields? I have an engagement next Saturday, but surely you two would be free for me during this coming week?”

  Russell looked crestfallen, Turing simply annoyed. Martin piped in, “The next week before classes officially start is known to be a period when academics retreat to high society a final time.”

  “Yes,” said Russell, hand rubbing at her shoulder between thumb and fingers, “shall be a hectic time. But...” gesturing to Turing he said, “Turing here doesn’t mind scheduling something with you after that, you and I, however? We should talk now,” he insisted.

  The tall yet slender Turing objected, “Oh come now, your bluster is not impressing the lady.”

  This was always her least favourite part of men squabbling over her. She simply wished it’d continue forever, never forcing her to choose. She sighed, a bit exaggeratedly, as she looked between the two men, “You two will be the absolute death of me. I hardly wish to allow either of you to feel as though you’re secondary,” she tut tutted. “Still, I haven’t much time left this evening, and I imagine teaching me pharmacology would take longer than I have. At least to the depths I’d wish to explore it.”

  Her gaze landed on Turing, and her expression was, for but the briefest second, almost as predatory as his before she softened it with a warm, toothy smile. “I’d like to plan to spend a day exploring such virtues with you. If you haven’t time the next coming week, perhaps on next Sunday afternoon, I could invite you over.”

  That generous—almost inappropriate even—offer mollified the professor, who gave a quick nod of his head, his white hair shifting. “Perfect,” he said. “I shall bring some things I’m certain you’d love to see in action.”

  With a slap of Russell’s hand upon the other professor’s shoulder, the tall dark British man began to guide her toward the door, “With that out of the way, we really should get down to the brass tacks of your future, madam,” he said with a toothy smile.

  She gave a friendly wave to the other two as they chatted familiarly before allowing herself to fall into step with the taller man, her heels clicking with each step, her grey shoes a perfect companion to her suit, “You are a rather direct sort, aren’t you?” she asked as the door clasped behind them.

  With a hearty chuckle he guided her down the dimly lit halls towards his office, “Well, miss Perkin’s, I did not travel across the ocean to accept a position here at Clarford out of desperation,” he remarked, coming to his door and unlocking the office. “I seize opportunity, and... in short order, I think that such opportunity shall exist to be had for me,” he smiled brightly, flipping a light switch inside the room, lighting up the neat, newly occupied office with its couch on one wall, then desk with a chair before it. “After you.”

  She made her way to the couch, settling upon it and crossing her legs daintily. She was not interested in a formal conversation, not at this hour. Placing her purse beside her, she looked up at him with a pleasant expression, “So then, Professor Russell. I’m simply dying to know... what is the future?”

  His fashion sense was more of the old world, dapper but not as sharp as Sinclair’s. Closing the door he touched a hand to his chest, “Me, simply put.” With a cocky smile he moved to sit beside her on the couch, an arm up over the back of the sofa. “Sinclair’s the current department head, but he can’t remain there forever, dear. He’s already so old,” he said dismissively, though Sinclair clearly had years to go before retirement might be a major issue. “By the time you complete your degrees and are looking at becoming a professor, he’ll likely be gone, and all your investment in cultivating an academic relationship will be lost.”

  “So you’re proposing I spend more time dedicated to cultivating a relationship with you?” she teased lightly, clearly leaving out an operative word. “My, my. You do have high hopes for yourself. What makes you think you’ll be the one to be promoted? You’re so young, after all,” she gushed, walking a line between teasing and genuine appreciation.

  Displaying not an ounce of doubt in his own abilities, the smiling foreigner leaned towards her just a bit. “It’s a foregone conclusion,” he said in a sort of conspiratorial voice. Grinning he added, “Dashing British academic, recruited from across the seas to come elucidate the New World masses. The only other real candidate is Turing,” he said as if that explained it all, “the man is scarcely capable of swaying the administration in his favour, no?” With a cocked eyebrow he seemed to be daring her to refute it, and she could feel his fingers lightly brush the back of her blouse.

  She turned her eyes to his, her body shifting just slightly to be facing him in a more attractive manner, “Ah, but he’s spent so much time cultivating his own academic relationships. Perhaps he has tricks that you’re not aware of.” She was teasing him, of course, but at the same time it was a simple sort of prying for more information.

  With a deeper chuckle he said, “His obsession with drugs is the only thing pushing him, dear miss Perkin’s.” The man gave a roll of his eyes, “The path to understanding and curing ailments of the mind is through psychoanalysis, not through doping up patients on pharmaceuticals,” he declared firmly.

  Eva was an adept young student, having been skipped ahead several years in her youth and never slowing down on her love of learning. She was primarily a student of psychoanalysis, but she also enjoyed psychology and pharmacy, though her interest was less so in the latter. Still, she studied all she could and often enjoyed blending different theories and experiments to find her own conclusions.

  “Well, we’d always have to understand before treatment, regardless of how that goes,” she said, her voice sounding so tempting, for some reason. There was nothing sexual in her words, but it was threaded through what she said.

  Reaching his free hand over, he very brazenly rested it upon her knee through the fabric of her skirt. “One step at a time, hm?” he said in a lower, softer voice than the charmin
g, often booming, man usually used. “Turing’s drugs can wait for another day. You and I have more important things to focus on as we prepare for the future,” his voice heavy with insinuation.

  “Far be it from me to stare down my nose at such a lovely opportunity, even if I do question the aftereffects,” she teased again, her hand trailing across her purse to his hand, resting her manicured fingers against his. “We can’t know what the future holds, because we’ve yet to create it.”

  With a light chuckle he dismissed her words as her fingers touched his, “I’m a man who creates his own destiny, Eva,” he said so confidently. “I don’t wait for others to dictate it to me,” with a wide smile he leaned in, “we’d do well together, I think. Two of the departments foremost rising stars, united.” He was making each word sound so much more sensual than it seemed on the surface.

  Even though her heart beat faster against her ribs, she didn’t blush, instead staring at the man placidly. “Well, I’m willing to explore all and any options,” she smiled, her long, dark lashes fluttering above her eyes. “So what is it you need from me, then? After all, you make your own destiny. Am I just to sit back and enjoy the ride? Or would you rather I take control of some aspect?” It was almost brazen what she was saying, if it didn’t sound so natural and on topic.

  His large hand squeezed her knee, fingers rubbing her through the fabric of her skirt. The dark haired man tilted his head and eyed her casually, eyes partially lidded with obvious lust. “I say we get to know one another,” he began. “As student and teacher,” a slow grin forming on his face. “Mentor and pupil,” and she could feel his finger brush against the back of her neck.

  “I think I can oblige you that much,” her eyes flicked to the door, then back to the older man, a mischievous smile trailing her lips. “I’m sure you could teach me some rather fascinating aspects from across the sea.”