The Seduction of Monet Dawson: Confessions of a Military Wife

By E. Clay

Monet Dawson is an everyday woman leading a typical life as a military spouse just outside Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton. One day, Monet encounters a gentleman with a unique skill set who causes her to question everything she knows about love and happiness. Will she dismiss the only love she has ever known for a fantasy, or will she remain true to her principles. Based on a true story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. Clay
• Release date: Aug 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9780989154857

E. Clay

Never in a million years did I ever think I would become a writer, or that I would find it so fullfilling and rewarding. If the test of a true passion is the love of its drudgery, then I am certifiably hooked. The entire writing experience is a joy.I created this webpage so you can follow my works and hear the latest news on my progress. I enjoy communicating with my readers and reviewers about my characters, my plots and most importanly my message. If you ask me a question, I will make every effort to respond in a timely manner.

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PROLOGUE

Monet Dawson is an everyday woman leading a typical life as a military spouse just outside Marine Corps Base, Camp Pendleton, California. Like some military spouses, Monet often sees herself as a mere extension of her husband, putting her life on hold to further his career. Years of sacrifice and compromise has created an existential crisis which she finds increasingly unbearable.

One day, Monet encounters a gentleman with a unique skill set who causes her to question everything she knows about love and happiness. Will she dismiss the only love she has ever known for a fantasy, or will she remain true to her principles and values and resist a firestorm of temptation?

(Based on a true story)

Contains moderate implications of sexual activity.

— CHAPTER ONE —

Caller in Distress

18 June 1991. 12:05 p.m.

911. What is your emergency?"

Can you send someone, please? I’m scared.

Okay ma’am, can you speak up, I can hardly hear you.

I can’t. I’m in the upstairs closet. If I talk louder then…wait, I hear footsteps.

Okay, we have you at 3553 Sandpiper Place. Someone will be there shortly. Just stay with me okay?

Click.

Ma’am are you there? Ma’am?

One week earlier

Home sweet home. I had been back in the U.S. for a month from my year-long assignment in Okinawa, Japan. I was very happy to be reunited with my six-year-old son Clay Jr. I was so lucky to return to Camp Pendleton, California. I moved right back into my condo just off of College Boulevard. Since the court awarded me child custody, I got the house and the fat mortgage along with it. I was buried in debt. You would think a Gunnery Sergeant who had been in the Marines almost eleven years would have a decent lifestyle. Some probably did, but I was as broke as they come. I remember being so broke that I had to make a U-turn on the way to work to avoid paying a toll charge. I didn’t have any money. Whenever my dates walked in to my house for the first time, they would always say the same thing.

I can tell this is a bachelor pad.

I managed to put a little money away while I was overseas. For the first time in a long time, I felt good about my finances and my overall disposition because now I had a little money in the bank. I decided against fixing up my Mazda RX-7 and decided to spend a little on the house. I needed to de-bachelorize it and make it a little more decorative. The condo was a two-story unit that hadn’t been upgraded since it was built in the early 1970s. It had wood paneling throughout the downstairs and cheap furnishings that I picked up second hand from the old couple that sold me the property in 1985.

My son and I were watching our favorite Sunday TV show In Living Color, and in between wiping the tears of laughter from our faces there was a commercial break.

Montgomery Ward was having an inventory closeout sale. Up to fifty percent off on home furnishings. That got my attention. The following evening, my son was in the toy section and I was roaming the aisles looking for a bargain.

Sir, have you found what you are looking for? asked a male store attendant who snuck up behind me.

Ahh, yes. I saw a commercial on TV and it mentioned you had a sale on home furnishings. Fifty percent off.

That only refers to our curtains and blinds. We are discontinuing a line of mini-blinds. You will find them on aisle six next to the curtains and rods, the attendant said as he led the way.

As I approached aisle six, I was immediately drawn to the mini-blinds with a dull brass finish. While in Okinawa, I bought some brass souvenirs to place on the fireplace mantle and thought the brass mini-blinds would complement them nicely.

Is there something specific you are looking for? asked a woman standing directly behind me. Once again, a store clerk magically appeared behind me like a leprechaun. I was slightly annoyed, until I turned around.

Standing in front of me was a lovely Black woman about my age (30ish) who spoke in a manner that was very familiar to me. Behind the glasses and modest appearance there was something very special about her. What I noticed most was her perfect smile and shoulder-length jet black hair. There was a vibe I instantly felt when we made eye contact. I had to consciously look away to avoid creeping her out.

Excuse me. You wouldn’t be from Detroit, would you? I asked as I placed my hands in my pockets and smiled.

Yes, my husband and I are both from Detroit. He’s in the Marines, she replied as she subtly adjusted her glasses, intentionally exposing the rock on her finger.

I was disappointed, and I think it showed.

I’m from Detroit too, West side. Small world, I sighed.

Well, if you need any assistance you can ask at the counter. I’m just about to start my break.

As she did an about face, I tilted my head to one side, crossed my arms and admired her tapered figure. Wow.

She turned around and caught me staring. I immediately took that stupid smirk off my face and pretended to check the time on my watch. I soon snapped out of the trance I was in and moseyed toward the mini-blinds.

I decided to buy the blinds and was ready to place an order but there was not a store clerk in sight. I had to walk way over to the appliance section to get a customer service rep.

Excuse me sir, I would like to place an order for the miniblinds on display. The brass blinds over there, I said as I pointed.

"If I get the one on display, can you reduce the price?’

I’m afraid not.

Do you have a military discount? I asked as I followed him to the display.

No. Do you have an installer? The store rep asked as we approached the blinds on display.

No. Do I have to pay for that too? That should be part of the price.

The customer service representative was at the end of his tether with me and my Okinawan-style of bargaining.

There is an installation charge of 35 dollars and delivery is free if you live within a ten-mile radius.

Okay. I will take it. I live only two exits off the 78 freeway on College Boulevard. I don’t have the money for the install now, can I pay later?

You don’t pay us. You will pay the installer on the delivery day. When would you like to schedule? Lunch times and the evening work best for her.

Oh, it’s a woman installer? In that case make it lunch time…next Wednesday. I have a very jealous girlfriend and the thought of another woman in my house.never mind, it’s a long story.

All right, Mr. Thompson, it’s booked. We will see you at 11:30 on Wednesday, he said as he handed me my copy of the purchase order and gave me a fake smile.

On the way home, my son Clay Jr. was thrilled about the super soakers I bought for him and me. I was happy too. By scheduling the installation during the day I averted having a stupid conversation with my girlfriend Kay about why the install guy was not a guy. I was planning to break up with her anyway because she finally opened up to me about her feelings about betrayal and infidelity. I remembered my last conversation with her on Saturday night.

"Hebrews 13:4 says ‘Marriage is honorable in all and the bed undefiled, but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge.’ My husband knew I couldn’t have kids when he married me. After five years of marriage, he met Cynthia and they had an affair. On the way home from church one Sunday, he told me Cynthia was pregnant with his child. I was devastated and heartbroken. It hurt me to see how excited he was about becoming a father. After Cynthia was seven months, they found out it was a girl and decided to name her Diamond. That was too much for me and it was only the grace of God that kept me from killing him in his sleep. I fasted and prayed for Cynthia to lose the baby. And the Lord answered my prayers, thank you Jesus. She got what she deserved, praise God. It was God’s will that the baby not enter this world."

I was so disgusted; I moved my arm from around her and moved towards the end of the sofa. Rejoicing at the news of the death of a child was depraved and unconscionable in my book.

Clay. When you stray from God’s will, there are consequences, Kay said with an unremorseful half-smile.

I wanted to break up with Kay right then, but I wasn’t familiar with the protocols for breaking up with psychos. I knew that this relationship would soon run its course. I only hoped it would not be a collision course.

It was 10:45, Wednesday morning. I was at work just waiting for 11:00 so that I could head home and let my installer in. I couldn’t remember if I had given my address on the purchase order. I decided to stop by Montgomery Ward on the way home just to make sure they had my address. When I strolled into the store, I eagerly looked for my dream girl with the beautiful smile and tapered waistline. I went up and down every aisle in search of her, but she wasn’t around. I approached the counter and asked for my purchase order. My address was there as I suspected. The clerk asked me if I wanted to buy a mini-blind duster. It was on sale, so I put it on my credit card.

As I pulled into my drive way, I noticed a white Nissan Maxima parked in my spot. I parked behind the car and got out. I approached the driver’s side. My heart stopped, or at least that was what it felt like. It was her, my dream girl. I nervously opened her door and introduced myself.

I am so sorry, I am late. I was just at the store. My name is Clay, I said and heard one of my favorite music artists jamming from her front and rear speakers.

Hi, Mr. Thompson. I didn’t hear you pull up. I must have had the music up too high. My name is Monet, your installer.

I’m a fan too, I commented.

A fan, excuse me? Monet responded as she pulled her car keys out of the ignition.

A Johnny Gill fan. That tape is in my car stereo right now.

Oh my, what a coincidence, she said sarcastically, rolling her beautiful light brown eyes.

You don’t believe me, do you? You think I’m lyin, I said with a smile as I walked toward my car and put my key in the ignition.

Monet just stood there with a half-smile on her face as she popped her trunk.

Within a few seconds, track six of the Johnny Gill tape played the song My, My, My.

Monet slowly looked over her shoulder at me with a smile. The ice was broken.

That’s my favorite song on the cassette; could you turn it up a little? she asked as her head slowly nodded from left to right to the beat.

I obliged her request. It was times like that when I wished I could sing. We listened to the entire song. After the song, I assisted her with the long oblong-shaped boxes in her trunk.

I opened the sliding patio door and we both walked into the kitchen area and placed the boxes on the counter. Monet adjusted her blouse and looked around.

I can tell a bachelor lives here, she said jokingly as she turned around and faced me.

Yeah, I know. It needs a little TLC. By the way, I owe you 35 dollars, I said as I reached into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet. It wasn’t there. I started to worry and excused myself to check my car. It wasn’t there either. Monet walked outside and asked me when was the last time I had it. I paused and rubbed my forehead in desperation, trying to think of when I had it last. Then it dawned on me as I looked in my backseat and saw the mini-blind duster.

Whew! I must have left it at the store. I think it’s on the counter. Can I leave you here alone? I asked with a sense of relief.

Do you trust me, being a complete stranger? Never know what I could be up to, she said with her arms folded.

We’re not strangers anymore, I said as I started up the car and reversed, playing her favorite song. I waved to her and she waved back.

I had a conversation with myself on the way to the store, a conversation about Monet.

What a cutie! What’s it like to come home to that every day?

There was just one small problem—not only was she out of my league but she was married too. The last thing I wanted was a jealous husband hunting me down. By the time I got to the store, I compartmentalized the notion as a fantasy that I would play out only in my head.

Excuse me sir, I was just here about twenty minutes ago. Did I leave my wallet here?

There was a new person behind the counter and I was hoping to see the guy who sold me the duster.

Can you describe it? asked the customer service rep.

Yes. It is black with my military I.D., a video loyalty card and drivers license. And there’s no money in it.

He reached under the counter and retrieved my wallet. I was so glad and relieved.

Thank you so much. I would tip you…but as you can see I can’t, I said as I exposed the emptiness inside.

On the way home, I indulged in my Monet fantasy again. Before I knew it, I was turning left onto my street. I was really looking forward to seeing her again. In the space of only fifteen minutes, I missed her, as silly as that sounds.

As I approached my driveway, I began to feel sick in my stomach. I saw my girlfriend Kay’s car parked directly behind Monet’s car. I knew there would be hell to pay. I had no idea what I would encounter, but one thing I knew for sure.it would be evil, pure evil. I pulled the sliding door open and reluctantly walked in.

— CHAPTER TWO —

Psycho

There was complete silence as I passed through the kitchen. I saw Kay’s tan purse on the living room sofa.

Kay! Monet!

There was no response. I thought this might be a 911 situation, so I cautiously backtracked to the kitchen to get the phone, but it was not in its cradle. I took a deep breath and was mad at myself for being scared of a five foot five inch, 120 pound female. It was time to man up.

My fear yielded to my anger. This was my house and it was a drama-free zone. I approached the bottom of the stairs and called their names