by Ben Boswell
I had a cup of coffee, glanced over the newspaper, and then went back upstairs to shower. I was just coming out of the shower when I heard the phone ring. I wrapped the towel around my waist and managed to grab it just as the fourth ring began, but Annie had gotten it first and I heard her say “hello” as I picked up.
Greg answered. "Hey Red, sorry about calling at home. I tried your cell and you didn't pick up. I've been thinking about you."
"Me too. I had fun last night. Thank you."
He chuckled, "No, thank you. It was... amazing. You're amazing."
"Listen, Greg, we can't, you know, we can't see each other again. It was a one-time thing. Let's just leave it at that."
"Really?"
"Yeah, look, I'm happily married."
"You don't mean that," he replied. "You felt it last night. I felt it. We belong together."
"We can't." Was that a wistful note in her tone?
"Maybe, but at least admit it. Admit it was something special."
"It was special," she replied softly. "Look, I have to go. Have a good day."
And with that, she hung up.
The exchange left me uneasy. She'd said the right things, sort of. But it worried me that he seemed intent on still pursuing her. And there was something about her tone that sounded off, almost as if she were saying what she thought she had to say rather than what she really wanted to say. Did she know I was listening in?
God this was so complicated. Did I want her? Or should I just end it? Was it best to fight for her? Confront him? Give her an ultimatum? Or was the only way to win her back to set her free and see if she returned? I loved her. I had loved her from almost the first day I met her. I didn't want to lose her, but didn't know if I could ever forgive her, or trust her, or even if she really wanted to stay.
My mind tried to reassure me that it was just a physical thing. Meaningless. Stupid. But my heart refused to be swayed by logic.
***
I was in a funk. Ann kept her distance, realizing I was working things through. Every once in a while, she'd appear, give me a hug, and then back away, giving me space. Except for the emotional turmoil, it was a usual Saturday. I did some yard work, Ann went grocery shopping. I paid some bills, she answered work emails -- she's always tethered to her email. As the day progressed, I could see her getting more anxious, but I couldn't tell if it was regret, worry about me, or something else.
At a little after 3:00pm, she appeared in my den as I was filing some tax papers.
"I hate to do this, honey, but I need to go to the office for a bit. Jack wants us to add an appendix to the financing section, and I need to go review some of the text."
"Okay," I replied.
"I should be home for dinner. Want to order out?"
"Sure."
She gave me a kiss on the cheek and left. I finished my filing and went to the kitchen for a snack, but as I passed the foyer I realized she'd left her briefcase by the coat rack. That set off alarm bells. Or perhaps rather, it allowed me to hear the ringing that had been sounding since she first mentioned going into work. I grabbed her briefcase, hopped in the car, and drove to her office.
It was quiet, only a handful of cars in the parking lot. When I got to the front desk, the guard recognized me. I pointed at Annie's briefcase.
"She forgot this," I explained.
"She just went up," he noted.
He buzzed me in and unlocked the elevators. I went up to the 12th floor and crept around to her office. She wasn't there. Nobody was there. The office suite seemed completely empty. But I knew she must be there, somewhere.
As I walked down the hall, I heard voices coming from one of the back offices. Cautiously I approached. The name on the door read, "Greg Garza," and from inside I heard Annie's voice. The door was shut, but there was a transom above it. I grabbed a chair, quietly placed it by the door, and climbed up and peered in. They were sitting on his sofa, chatting, both of them dressed casually, he in khakis and a polo shirt, she in a flowered sundress. I pressed my ear to the glass and I could make out their words.
"I need you," he was saying, as he took her hands in his.
"Don't say that," she replied, but she didn't pull away. "You barely know me."
"That's not true. We've been working together for months. I think about you all the time."
She snorted. "Oh please Greg, you've been cutting quite a swathe." She sounded jealous.
Greg smirked momentarily, but then he recomposed his face into a mask of sincerity. "Is that what this is about? You think you're just another notch?"
"Well, aren't I?"
Oh God, she was looking for his approval.
"Oh, Red, no, no, no. I mean, yes, I've dated some of the girls in the office. I mean, I thought you were taken, married, unavailable."
"I am," she replied, but that was belied by the fact that she continued to let him hold and now caress her hands.
"I know you are. Which is why I am so sad about all of this. I finally find a girl... a woman, I really care for. She's beautiful, smart, funny. We have the most amazing sexual chemistry." Annie blushed. "And, of course, she's taken."
"I'm sorry," she replied.
She stood and made to leave. My heart raced, both from joy and from the realization that if I didn't move quickly, I'd be caught.
"Don't go," he said, grasping her hand lightly.
She stopped as if held firmly in place even though it was only his fingertips.
"We can't," she whispered.
"Just a kiss," he insisted, pulling her toward him.
She hesitated, swaying on her feet as if fighting a swirling windstorm, head shaking, fingers clenching. She let out a small grunt and slumped back toward him. As she did so, he leaned back on the sofa, pulling her toward him. Her momentum took her towards him, and she stumbled onto the sofa, now straddling his legs. She giggled and shook the hair from her face. They kissed. First a light brushing of their lips, but it quickly escalated into a passionate embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his encircled her waist.
"Can you feel what you do to me?" he groaned.
"Yes," she gasped.
They kissed again, passionately, wetly. His hands went under her dress, under her panties, squeezing her ass cheeks firmly. She reached down between them and fumbled with his belt and zipper. It happened so fast. He lifted her up for a second, and when he settled her back into his lap, she was impaled on his cock.
"Oh my God," she moaned.
They fucked like that, hungrily, their mouths locked together, her hips pumping frantically. He pulled her dress off her shoulders and lifted up her bra. He took an erect nipple into his mouth and suckled it wetly. Annie gasped, threw her head back, and growled orgasmically before collapsing onto him.
Greg stood up, my wife still impaled on his shaft, and stumbled over to his desk. He laid her on her back. He stripped off his clothes and hers, and then stood a moment admiring her body as she seemed to gaze up at him. He stepped in closer and put her legs up over his shoulders. He thrust back into her. I could now see his cock, somehow looking even larger than before in the sunlight, pistoning vigorously into Annie's pussy. She was moaning and gasping, her head swinging from side to side and her body writhing in passion.
"Oh God," she moaned, "come inside me, I love it when you come inside me."
He pumped her hard, once, twice, a third time, then with his cock lodged deep inside her, he let out a satisfied grunt as he filled my wife with his seed.
She giggled. "God, I love that, I love feeling it swell in anticipation and pulse in release."
He pumped her slowly several more time, and then gently withdrew, his thick shaft wet and slimy with their combined juices. He dropped to his floor and sat with his back to the desk. She scooted down and sat down beside him.
For a while they didn't talk, only exchanging an occasional kiss. Her hand slid down into his lap and she absentmindedly stroked his cock while he casually fondled her breasts. Seeing them
so comfortably intimate was somehow even more painful than witnessing them actually having sex.
There was a noise from behind me. The maintenance crew was coming through emptying the trash. I stepped down from the chair and replaced it. Then I took her briefcase and carefully snuck out of the office. At least I assume that is what I did. I don’t actually have any clear memory of getting home.
***
Ann didn't return until after 9:00pm. I could only imagine what she and Greg had been up to in that time.
When she got home, I confronted her.
"Where were you?" I snapped.
"I told you I had to review some documents."
"You left your briefcase at home."
She paused. "Everything was on my office computer."
I sighed. "I know you were with him."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did you follow me? Are you spying on me?"
I hesitated.
"I can't believe this," she hissed. "How could you do that?"
The best defense is a good offense, and she had me back on heels. Before I could recover my bearings, she snapped, "I can't talk about this now." And she stormed off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
I waited there for a while, but I could hear the water running in the shower, and it was obvious she would be in there for a while.
I went down to my study. Half in shock, I picked up the phone and dialed.
Barry answered.
"Hey man, long time no talk, what's up," he asked after he realized it was me.
"Well, you were right, it happened."
"Huh? What happened?"
"Annie. She cheated on me."
"Whoa dude, that's some heavy shit. You sure you want to drop it on me?" He asked. It was a reasonable point. Barry and I had been close in grad school, but now we spoke maybe once or twice a year.
"Well, yeah, you predicted it."
"I did?"
"Yeah, you said since I was her first, she'd someday be curious."
"Shit, I was a real tool, huh? Did I really say that?"
"Well, you were right. So, I figured you might know what to do now."
I laid out the whole story.
He let out a long whistle. "Dude, I don't know what to say. I'm really sorry about all of this. I wish I hadn't said anything back then, and well, I don't know what to say now."
"I should dump her, right? Just end it?" I suggested.
"Man, I dunno. Seems to me a marriage is like a building a house. You've been working on this fucking house for a decade now. It's your dream house. And now you discovered a crack in the foundation. Do you burn the fucker down? Or do you fix the crack?"
"So, I stay?"
"Maybe. Well, I mean part of it is up to her. You can't if she won't stop. But, you know, people do stupid shit sometimes. Guys fuck their office assistants, women fuck their tennis instructors, presidents fuck their interns. It happens."
There was not much left to say. I thanked Barry for lending me his ear and hung up.
I went back upstairs. Annie had left the shower and was now in bed, the lights off, asleep or at least pretending to be. I decided to sleep on the sofa downstairs.
***
I woke up the next morning with a sore back and a pit in my stomach. I needed to confront Annie, once and for all.
She came down late, in her bathrobe, her eyes red and puffy.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"No," she sighed. "I feel awful. I'm a bad person."
I gave her a hug. She cried on my shoulder.
"Can you ever forgive me?" she whimpered.
"Yes, of course," I replied. "But I need to know what is going on."
"I don't know. I really don't. I'm so confused. I love you so much, so much. But Greg. He's just so exciting."
That hurt too, because I know I’m not that. Exciting that is. I like old movies and video games. I don’t like parties or mob scenes. I’m a creature of routine. Although my assumptions about Annie had been shaken and my heart remained in doubt, I knew she wasn’t so shallow as to fall for a buff physique and a fat tool. But excitement was a different issue.
Truth it, from the moment we met, Annie and I had trod a well-marked path. School, marriage, career… and onto in the future… children, a mountain cottage, family vacations, kids soccer…. A full, rich life, but no surprises. No excitement. And that was okay with me. Excitement was unpredictability. It was danger, betrayal, heartbreak, illness. I’d never wanted that. And I never thought she did either. Could I have been wrong?
"Okay," I muttered slowly. "So, what now?"
"I... I... guess... well, I know I can't see him anymore, right?" She replied tentatively, her eyes pleading. Despite her words, she was obviously asking permission to do exactly the opposite. To continue her affair.
"No, you can't," I said.
Her face sank. "I know," she muttered miserably. "I'll try."
I grunted involuntarily. "Try? You can do better than that."
"I know, I know," she snapped. Then she softened. "It's just hard, you know?"
I shook my head. "Actually, I guess I don't know. Either you're married, or you're not."
"I wish it were that simple," she said under her breath.
I stared at her uncomprehendingly. It seemed very simple to me. One plus one equals two simple. And it was that which paralyzed me as much as anything else. I just didn’t understand what she was saying, what she was going through. We were both speaking English, and yet not communicating.
I finally choked out a response, “You need to figure out what you want.”
She nodded, but didn’t respond further.
The day went by slowly, the house filled with tension. At one point, Annie said she was going out to do errands. I invited myself along, though neither of us said much or acknowledged the absurdity of me feeling like I had to chaperone my wife around.
Still, we made it through the day without major incident. The problem, I knew, would come the following morning, Monday, when I went to teach and she went to work with Greg.
CHAPTER SIX
I couldn't follow her everywhere, but I wasn't ready to just trust her. I had an old-fashioned, voice-activated recorder that I used for some writing projects and before Annie went to work, I slipped it into her handbag. It was a sign of how weird things had gotten that I didn’t have any qualms about such an appalling violation of her privacy. Truth is, it just didn’t occur to me at the time.
The day at work was difficult. It was a slow week for me. My students were working on independent study projects, and I was mostly just catching up on paperwork, which left me plenty – too much really – of time on my hands to worry about my wife. I called her a couple of times to check in, but by mid-afternoon, I'd run out of plausible reasons to interrupt her work day, and anyway my occasional thirty second check-ins could do little to assure her fidelity.
That night, we had an early dinner, watched some TV and went to bed. Though we were back in the same bed, there was an obvious, palpable divide between us. It was painful. I could feel my marriage slipping away from me.
After a while, Ann drifted off to sleep, and when she did, I cautiously rose and recovered the recorder from her purse. I started at the beginning of the day and gradually scanned through the day.
Most of what the recorder caught was incidental noise – her office printer churning out a document, business phone calls, a few coworkers stopping by to discuss project matters. I'd been listening for fifteen minutes when suddenly upon releasing the fast-forward button, I was greeted with a heartbreaking sound.
"Oh yes, oh yes, I love it so much, love it so much," she was moaning passionately. I could hear him grunting as well, and their bodies slapping together, and even, I thought, if I listened closely, the sounds of his cock slurping into her wet snatch.
I rewound a few minutes until I found the beginning of this snippet. I checked the time stamp, 12:15pm, a nooner.
He'd apparently popped his head
into her office, I could hear his muffled voice coming from across the room. He'd asked a question about work, and when she began to answer, I heard him shut her office door.
Her tone changed. "No, we can't do this. We need to stop," she said firmly.
"I need you," he said simply, his voice clear, obviously standing close now.
"You don't need me," she said softly.
"Okay, I want you. And you want me," he insisted.
"I don't. I can't. I'm married," she stammered.
"Shh, baby," he cooed. "Don't think about it, just follow your instincts."
She moaned softly. "Please don't make me do this."
"Your skin is so soft." I imagined him now standing behind her chair, running his hands down her neck and over her shoulders.
"This is a bad idea," she sighed.
"You're body doesn't think so," he replied. "Your nipples couldn't be harder... and here," she moaned sultrily, "you're so wet."
He was now probably fingering her, and she was moaning passionately. I heard a zipper open, and then a moment later, Greg gasped as the recorder captured wet, sucking sounds.
"Oh God, that's good," he moaned. "That's it, Red, lick me up and down."
This continued for a long while, him moaning, as she wetly sucked his cock. Every few moments she'd let out a muffled, gagging sound as she apparently tried to swallow his huge cock, but then she'd return to licking and slurping his rod.
"Okay, now it's your turn," he exclaimed finally.
There were some sounds of movement.
"No, not that," she barked. "I'm already too excited. Just put it in."
More movement. She gasped. She moaned. She cried out, "Oh yes, oh yes, I love it so much, love it so much." And then the sounds of vigorous fucking.
I shut off the recorder. I didn't need to hear any more.
I packed an overnight bag. Called in sick to work. I got in the car and drove south. I was thinking the city, but that was too close to home. I kept driving. I got on the Garden State Parking and headed toward the shore. Maybe I'd stop in a beach town and take some time for myself, but then I decided to hit Atlantic City instead.
