My Time in the Affair

by Stylo Fantome

  Wretched because it wasn't right. She knew it wasn't right. Mike was still her husband. Still her best friend. It was so fucked up, but when she'd been reliving some of her moments from the night before, she'd had the strongest urge to call Mike, to talk about it with him. Like they did with everything.

  It made her feel sick.

  She couldn't keep that from him. Couldn't keep something so monumental from her best friend. Couldn't lie to her husband. She didn't know how she had ever convinced herself it was even a possibility. She felt like she was drowning. It was awful.

  She had slept with someone. Let another man fuck her. Now it was over, she'd gotten it out of her system. She would throw herself into her work, she would tell Mike the truth, and she would get on with her life.

  Whatever kind of life it will be … please, don't let him hate me.

  “Hey, babe! How are you? I was getting worried,” Mike's voice sounded scratchy over the line.

  “Sorry, I was kind of out of sorts today. Took a shower, took a nap,” Mischa told him.

  Fucked myself with my fingers, pretended they were another man's – someone with dark eyes and a strange name.

  “Rough life,” he laughed.

  “Look,” she sighed, “I wanted to talk to you about -,”

  “Oh, hey! I meant to tell you, my mom is coming to stay here while you're gone,” he interrupted her. She scowled.

  “What? Why? You know I hate it when she messes with my stuff,” Misch complained.

  “C'mon, it's not so bad. She'll take care of me while you're gone,” Mike pointed out.

  “I don't like it. I don't like that she -,”

  “Oh! And Roger scored tickets to a basketball game, I'm finally gonna see …,” he interrupted again, and that was it. Misch was staring out the window, watching the breeze ruffle the gauzy curtains. While her husband prattled on, her mind wandered. Made its way back to a moment in time that involved long fingers and a tricky smile.

  She shook her head.

  This isn't right. He never listens to me, just wants to talk, and I never listen, and don't care what he has to say.

  “Mike,” she said his name sharply.

  “What's up?” he responded, chewing on something.

  “We need to talk,” she gentled her voice.

  “I thought that's what we were doing,” he laughed. She glared again.

  “No, that's what you were doing. I haven't opened my mouth in ten minutes,” she snapped.

  “Babe, I've told you, you gotta speak up. You get mad, but how can I know you want to talk if you never say anything?” he chuckled. The urge to throttle him was strong.

  Calm down. You're a lying, cheating, slut-bag – he's allowed to be a dick.

  “We need to talk about us,” she stressed. There was a long pause.

  “What about us?” he asked.

  “We've got some problems, Mikey. Some big problems,” she sighed.

  “It's not that bad, babe. It just seems like that cause you're so far away,” he tried to convince her.

  Soooooo far away, you have no idea.

  “It's seemed like that for a while, Mikey. Look, is there anyway you can bump up your trip?” she asked. She couldn't tell him over the phone. She had to tell him to his face.

  “You know I can't. I'll be there in three weeks, babe. I miss you, too,” he told her.

  “Alright. But when you get here, we are going to have a long talk,” she informed him.

  “Whatever you want. Look, I gotta go, mom just rolled up. Love ya,” he prattled. She rolled her eyes.

  “Love ya.”

  The phone went dead.

  Misch spent the day in bed, trying not to feel sorry for herself. Failing miserably. The whole thing had been like … sky diving. It was all fine and dandy for a person to say they were gonna jump out of a plane, but a mile in the air, it was a little different. She'd told herself she wouldn't do it. She'd told the plane to turn around. In the back of her mind, she'd really thought she'd never leap.

  Boy, did I leap.

  She took another shower, cried some more. Ordered room service for herself. She knew she had to get her shit together, she had to be back in the office the next day. Which that thought only reminded her of something else – she had to get her purse back from Tal. She needed that insurance manual.

  Fuuuuuuuuuck.

  ~Night Games~

  “Let's go, go, go! We ain't got all day!”

  A hand beat against a car roof top, and Tal looked up as he walked out of his hotel. A black Range Rover was parked at the curb. A man was standing on the other side of it, now drumming his fingers on the roof top.

  “Be careful with my baby,” Tal warned as he slid into the vehicle. “I let you borrow my car – that doesn't mean you get to abuse it.”

  “Someone's in a peachy mood. What the fuck happened to you?” the other man, Ruiz, asked as he got in the car as well.

  “Nothing happened to me.”

  “Really? Cause I called you a dozen times last night. Why didn't you answer?”

  Tal finally smiled.

  “I was busy,” was all he said, but Ruiz smiled as well.

  “Aw, shit. I knew it. Can't leave you alone for a second. You gotta slow down, man, leave some Italian hotties for the rest of us,” he joked. Tal shook his head.

  “She wasn't Italian. American,” he corrected his partner.

  “Whoa. Switching it up. Where'd you find an American?”

  “I've seen her around.”

  “You've been scouting this chick?”

  “Eh. She wound up in my line of sight,” Tal answered sideways. The car roared down side streets, earning curses and shouts from locals.

  “Sounds dangerous. Was she any good?” Ruiz questioned. Tal closed his eyes.

  “Yeah. Yeah, she was pretty good.”

  Mischa, Mrs. Rapaport, had definitely been a pleasant little surprise. The first time he'd seen her up close, she'd been in her own hotel's bar. All dressed up, with nowhere to go. She had seemed skittish, and whenever men talked to her, she'd looked ready to have a nervous breakdown. But she'd been dressed up like she wanted to get fucked.

  What was the deal? He had to know more.

  Saving her from her unwelcome guest the night before had been a calculated move – Tal had only been at the cafe because he'd walked by and had seen her sitting at a table. Helping her, well, that had just been a treat from fate. A way in, an excuse to talk to her.

  She was good looking, but had no clue, which was usually the best kind of woman. Dark hair, hazel eyes, amazing body, fan-fucking-tastic legs, great tits. She was racially ambiguous, he couldn't quite tell what all was going on there. Maybe Spanish. Definitely some Caucasian. Possibly Asian. Exotic. She looked exotic, and Tal loved to visit exotic places.

  He didn't give two fucks that she was married. Clearly, Mr. Rapaport wasn't taking care of his business at home. Tal was more than happy to look after his interests abroad. She'd been nervous, and scared, and at war with herself, but Tal knew he was a hard man to resist. He was used to getting what he wanted.

  God, I wanted her so bad.

  Despite her nerves, she'd been incredible. So eager, so ready, so excitable. Wet at just a look from him, he loved women like that. Loved it when they spread their legs and said “please, sir, I want some more”; he was ever so happy to oblige. She was a little lost, and had been willing to let him guide her. Gave him the excuse to be bossy – not that he needed one, but it was so much better when it wasn't a battle. There had been hesitancy in her eyes, but she'd always done as she was told. Got down on her knees in his shower, bent over the railing on his balcony, rode his face in the bedroom.

  Charming. What an utterly charming woman.

  He would have gladly gone for round two and a goodbye fuck the next morning, but she snuck out while he was in the shower. He had halfway expected her to, but a small part of him had hoped she wouldn't. She was gorgeous, and great in bed, and clearly was onl
y looking for someone to remind her what sex was like – they were a perfect match. Doubles tennis, they could pass away the summer days batting each other back and forth.

  Apparently, Mrs. Rapaport doesn't like to play.

  “You gonna hit her up again?” Ruiz interrupted Tal's thoughts. They finally broke out onto a dirt road, and the Rover ate up the kilometers.

  “I don't know. Depends on how busy we get,” Tal replied, shaking the steamy memories out of his imagination.

  “But you would?”

  “Yeah. Sure. She was nice.”

  “Nice!?”

  Tal cleared his throat.

  “A nice fuck. Do you know where we're going?”

  “Chill, I know what I'm doing. Do you know what you're doing? Eyes on the prize, man. I don't want things getting screwed up cause you're thinking about pussy,” Ruiz cautioned. Tal glared at him.

  “Don't forget who you're talking to, asshole, and just drive,” he snapped.

  Ruiz didn't respond, but he smiled as he looked out the windshield.

  The night was completely black, stars twinkling high above. Tal knew he needed to get his head in the game. They had an important job, and a limited amount of time to do it in, and he certainly did not need to be thinking about Mrs. Rapaport. Had no right to be thinking about her. Still, his mind kept wandering back to a nervous dancer with amazing legs.

  I wonder how flexible she is ...

  ~The Affair~

  You can do this, Misch. You got this. You're a confident woman. You're a strong, self-assured, confident woman. You're a take charge, take no shit, strong, self-assured … who am I kidding. I'm a pussy. Somebody help!

  Misch took a deep breath and barreled through the doors to the hotel. To Tal's hotel.

  She'd avoided it for two days. Had gone to work, then straight back to her hotel. She didn't know his phone number, he didn't know hers. He didn't know where she was working, what hotel she was staying in, it should have been perfect. She would've never had to see him again.

  If I wasn't such a fucking idiot.

  She'd coasted along without her binder for those couple days, but it was too hard. She needed her rules and regulations guide, and her boss was demanding to see it, as well. She had to get it back.

  So there she was, walking back through Tal's hotel, in the harsh light of the morning. She'd figured going before work was best – she had a great excuse to dash in and out. She could say hello, thank him for his amazing pussy pounding abilities, then get the fuck out of there.

  Like an adult. Yeah. Totally.

  “Hi,” she said at the front desk, and cursed her voice for sounding nervous. A clerk smiled at her.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I'm trying to reach one of your guests, Mr. Canaan? In suite 405 – could you call and see if he's available?” Misch asked.

  The clerk said yes, then picked up the phone. But there was no answer on Tal's end. He must not have been in the room. Ug, Misch didn't want to have to make the trip again in the afternoon. She explained her plight to the clerk, hammed it up, tried to appeal to the other woman's feminine sensibilities.

  They finally reached a deal. Misch couldn't be allowed to go walk around the room willy-nilly, but a housekeeper could go with her and they go in together and could locate the purse. If there was identification in the purse showing that it belonged to her, then Misch could take it. Perfect!

  As she rode the elevator up, she couldn't believe her luck. She'd be able to get her things back, and not have to interact with him. Her impending heart attack started to fade away. She was embarrassed by the way she'd behaved with him, embarrassed that she'd slept with him after knowing him for only a couple hours, embarrassed by the way she'd run away, and if she was honest with herself, she was nervous about her performance. She hadn't had sex in a long time. What if she hadn't been very good?

  Couldn't have been awful, he barely let you sleep.

  Misch was a little surprised to see his suite door standing open. It couldn't have been more than a minute since she'd left the counter, and the housekeeping manager had said it would be a few minutes. How had the other woman gotten there so fast? Oh, well. The faster Misch got out of there, the better.

  She was halfway across the suite when she realized something wasn't right. There was a housekeeping cart parked inside the door – why would the manager have brought that? And there were also noises. Like someone was panting. And something else. Something like … something like …

  She got to the bedroom doors and froze. They were wide open, like they'd been the last time she'd been there. And much like the last time she'd been there, Tal was naked. And fucking somebody.

  Just not her.

  He was standing at the foot of his bed, and a woman was laying underneath him. Her legs were splayed in the air, and he was holding her by the ankles. Misch assumed it was a maid, based on the sensible white sneakers and ankle socks the other woman was still wearing. The panting gave way to moans and shrieks. Familiar sounds.

  Oh. My. God.

  Mischa turned in a couple circles, looking for her bag. Freaking out. She spied it on a couch and dashed over to it. Clutched it to her chest, then whirled back around, peeking in the bedroom. They were still going at it – Tal had even moved so one knee was on the mattress, allowing him to thrust even harder. Misch chewed on her bottom lip and couldn't deny that it was pretty hot.

  Cheating slut-bag AND a pervert, my evolution continues. Shoot me now.

  She tiptoed across the doorway, turning as she went, watching them to make sure no one saw her. But she hadn't looked before she turned, and she rammed into an end table, knocking over some glasses. She spun back around, trying to grab them, but only succeeded in knocking more over. Fuck. She leapt upright and bolted for the door.

  “Mischa?”

  Busted.

  “Hey, Tal, I just had to get my … oh, muh … uhmm …,” Misch began to stutter as she turned around.

  He was still completely naked, walking towards her, his dick pointing the way. She tried not to stare. Couldn't not stare. Finally pressed her lips together and looked over his shoulder. She couldn't look at him. In clothes, he was one of the best looking men she'd ever met, but naked, he was unbearable. All muscle and mocha skin and dark outlines – black hair, black eyebrows, black eyes. One flash of his naughty smile, and she knew she'd be done for.

  “Oh yeah, your bag. I was wondering when you were gonna show up,” he chuckled, stopping a couple feet from her. Misch shifted from foot to foot.

  “I needed it,” she replied.

  Awk-fucking-ward.

  “You ran away so quick the other morning. Did I scare you?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  “No.”

  “Then you didn't come back for the bag, it's been a couple days.”

  “Been busy.”

  “Your vocabulary was a lot bigger the other night.”

  “The vodka helped.”

  Before they could go back and forth anymore, his afternoon delight made an appearance.

  “Are we done?” the maid snapped, walking into the living room. She was wearing a cute uniform, a short dress, but almost all the buttons down the front were undone, revealing a racy red bra. Her hair was a messy bush around her head.

  “Oh yeah,” Tal said in a low voice, his eyes never leaving Mischa's. “We're done.”

  Misch swallowed thickly.

  “But I wasn't finished!” the woman had a thick Italian accent, and she stomped over to Tal.

  “I am,” he replied, then he ran his teeth over his bottom lip. His gaze was making Misch heat up. Sizzle. Catch fire.

  “I have to go,” she said softly, hugging her bag tighter to her breasts.

  “I don't think so,” Tal's voice was equally as soft.

  “What is going on in here!?”

  The voice behind them was shrill and Misch turned, stepping to the side as she did so. It was the housekeeping manager, and she loo
ked pissed. She strode into the room and began yelling in Italian, steaming up to the maid. The younger woman held up her hands, gesturing at Tal. He turned towards both of them, and the manager shrieked, just then noticing his nudity.

  What the fuck did I get into!?

  Misch practically ran from the room, hurrying to the elevators. She pressed the down button, over and over again. Prayed for it to open up. Of course it didn't. Footsteps came down the hall behind her.

  “Wait, wait, wait, no running away,” Tal sighed, then he grabbed her shoulder, slowly turning her around. He'd wrapped a towel around his waist, thank god.

  “I'm not running away,” she said quickly. “I came for my purse. Now I'm going home.”

  “Babe, I don't think you know what home is anymore,” he laughed. She glared at him.

  “Don't be cute, we don't know each other well enough.”

  “We know each other pretty well.”

  The elevator pinged open and Misch hurried onto it.

  “I'm sorry I interrupted you, back there,” she blurted out. Tal braced his hand against the door, keeping it open.

  “Is that why you're upset?” he guessed. She snorted.

  “I'm not upset. Really. Just … caught off guard. You can do any maid you want. I just don't particularly want to watch,” she even laughed as she said it. He smiled, and she felt warm inside.

  He had a great smile, very wide, showing lots of teeth.

  “Good to know. So when can I -,” but Tal was cut off, by the housekeeping manager screeching at him. He stepped away from the elevator, turned towards the commotion.

  Saved.

  The doors slid shut, and Misch was quick to hit the lobby button. Then she fell back against the wall, closing her eyes. Went over everything she'd just seen.

  Tal was not her boyfriend. For god's sake, she was married. She had no claim on him, no ownership. In fact, she'd ditched him, after he had given her an amazing night. Had given her exactly what she'd been hoping for, and so much more. So his private life was his business, and absolutely none of hers.

  But it still hadn't felt very good, watching him do to another woman what he'd been doing to her only a couple nights ago.