The Adulterer's Unofficial Guide to Family Vacations, A Novel

by Langtry, Leslie

  I wrapped my legs around his waist as he slid inside me. Sobs erupted from my lips and tears flowed freely as he stroked, slowly at first, and then harder, driving himself deep inside me. We made love, his hips plunging against mine. He felt so damn good inside me I thought I would lose consciousness.

  “Laura . . . oh God! Laura! Yes!” his voice was wracked with emotion and desire. Our bodies were tearing us apart and we only wanted each other more. I opened my eyes as his strokes became more fevered. I wanted to see his face when he came. I was still crying and could feel another orgasm growing. He was building speed and I knew we would both come soon.

  “Laura . . . I want you so much Baby, so fucking much . . .” he growled as my climax washed over me. As the tingling began to fade I knew his was emerging. He was pounding into me, begging, “Please! Please! Yes . . . yes . . . Oh God, yes!” His whole body shook with spent desire.

  Alan collapsed onto me and we lay there, perspiring, breathing, and kissing. Laying there, tangled arms and legs, our lips met again and again.

  The lights were still on, an hour had passed, and we were still awake, lying in each other’s arms. Now and again fingers would stroke skin and lips would meet, but for the most part we just looked into each other’s eyes. Whether we were searching for love or hoping for an explanation – all that mattered was that we were there, together. Somewhere along the line, I drifted into sleep.

  Chapter 8

  Mike and I had met a couple of years after college. I had spent my whole life in Indiana, so after college I decided to move somewhere exotic. For reasons I can’t explain, Ohio became that exotic place. I’d been teaching at the local community college and working on my master’s degree and everything seemed good. I dated a few guys but nothing ever came of it. Then I met Mike.

  I was out with my grad school friends, having a few drinks at this hole-in-the-wall in Columbus. It was my turn to buy and so I walked up to the bar and there he was – the most charming, attractive man I had seen in a long, long time. We became friends at first but it quickly turned into something else. When we weren’t together, we spent every moment talking to or thinking about the other. And the sex was incredible. While my experience had been limited to half a dozen men, most of them were horrible in bed. Mike was different. He had experience, like he had been trained by a stable of upscale prostitutes before being released into the world.

  Within a year we were married and for ten years we were happy. I never wanted anyone else. Or so I thought. Mike was my best friend, my lover, the father of my beautiful children. Then he got his dream job. (Cue ominous music.)

  At first I was so happy for my husband. He had worked hard to get this job and it suited him perfectly. I was able to go part-time and spend more time with the kids. We moved into a big house, the kind we’d always dreamed of.

  But something changed after six months on the job. He started working longer hours, talking only about work every minute we were together. He insisted he wasn’t having an affair with a woman, but with his job. Then came sobbing, repentant phone calls from a secretary and a copywriter. They had names. I refused to remember them. Mike insisted that was all in the past. My affair with Nick reminded me that we had problems. This trip confirmed it.

  “Do you feel guilty?” I asked Alan. We were watching the kids play in the fountain the next afternoon. It had taken me half a day to get the courage to ask him.

  He shook his head, “No. And I expected to. You?”

  “Not really. But I didn’t feel guilty about Nick either.” It was true. The lack of guilt bothered me more than what I’d done.

  Alan clasped my hand, “I felt guilty when I was younger, when I cheated on you. But not today. All I can think about is how fantastic it was, and how to keep from getting an erection here in public.”

  I laughed, “You’re driving me crazy.”

  His face turned serious, “One thing I am worried about though, is birth control.”

  I put my hand on his thigh (I really wanted to stroke it), “It’s alright. I had my tubes tied after the twins.” What a weird thing to say! Next I’d be telling him about the wart on my foot and that Cheetos made me gassy.

  Alan smiled, “Tell me more about Nick. I have a feeling you left something important out.”

  I swallowed hard and turned to look at the kids. He was right; I had left out one or two things.

  Alan turned my face toward his, “What is it?”

  My voice was unsteady, “That I was falling in love with him.”

  He searched my face for more, his eyes roving the landscape of my eyes. It was the truth. And I think he knew that.

  “It started before we made love,” I began hesitantly, “Afterward, I realized how dangerous my feelings were so I tried to end it.”

  Alan’s voice was quiet and I wondered what was going on in his head, “Why?”

  I pulled back from his gaze, looking at our hands, clasped in my lap, “I don’t know. He was smart, funny, but very quiet. . . no, introspective. It was more than just a sexual attraction, at least for me.”

  “You never talked to him about it?”

  Again, I was unsure how much to reveal, “I didn’t want to break up his marriage.”

  Alan’s voice relaxed, “Do you wish you had told him?”

  My heart jumped into my throat, forcing my eyes to water from the pain, “I can’t really answer that.”

  Alan’s index finger gently wiped a stray tear from my cheek, “I’m sorry. I ask too many nosy questions. I shouldn’t pry.” That same finger lifted my chin so he could look into my eyes, “Forgive me?”

  I nodded, “I think it’s just very emotional for me to talk about it. Hell, maybe I’m distracting myself from the more immediate danger.”

  He smiled, “And what is that?”

  “You. Last night.” The tears subsided, replaced by genuine fear. I was worried. Terrified really. “I mean, what have we done? And worse yet, why do I want to keep doing it?”

  Alan’s eyes grew dark, “I don’t care, as long as I can make love to you again today.”

  I thought I was hyperventilating. My chest was heaving, like those women in romance novels and now I knew why. There just wasn’t room in there for all that I was feeling.

  “Oh my God, Alan. I’m scared to death.”

  He nodded, “Me too. I don’t know what this means, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop.”

  For a moment, I was convinced he would take me right then and there. And part of me wanted him to. I was ready, no doubt about it. But we would probably get arrested. This was the place to bring a family, not necessarily make one in public. Chances are they didn’t expect it to be the haven for adultery it had become for me.

  Maybe they could launch a new marketing campaign; “The Adulterer’s Guide to Family Vacations.” Well, probably they’d have to distance themselves a bit. Use the word “Unofficial” to make it sound like they didn’t sanction it. Hell, they could make millions.

  “Laura?” Alan’s voice brought me back from insanity, “Are you sure you don’t feel bad about last night?”

  “No. I feel very good about last night. And I find that more than a little disturbing.”

  He nodded, “I’ll be right back.” He stood to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  Alan flashed me a smile and I melted inside, “To make plans for tonight, of course.” He winked, and then disappeared into the crowd. I was torn between anticipation and dread. Ok, so it was like eighty percent anticipation and twenty percent dread, but that still counts. Right?

  Chapter 9

  “Where are we going?” I had to ask. Alan had been very mysterious on this subject all day. Martha and the kids were one hundred yards behind us, locked in our rooms. We were dressed casually, t-shirts and shorts. But I had no idea where we were going.

  “You’ll see.” He winked and checked his watch as we arrived at the hotel lobby. I was insanely curious, but willing to play along.
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  “There it is.” Alan pointed to a sleek black limo parked out front.

  “A limousine? Are you joking? I’m not dressed appropriately for a limo!” Automatically my hands smoothed my hair and clothes in an attempt to do . . . what? How crazy was I?

  He said nothing, just led me to the car. The driver opened the door for us and we climbed in. The driver shut the door and took his seat. A privacy screen between us and him closed silently. I looked at Alan and he smiled. When did he have time to arrange this?

  “Why a limo?” It was all I could think of to ask.

  “Because we have a long way to go, and I wanted to be alone with you in style.” He flicked a couple of switches and the moon roof opened, letting in fresh air. A cd player opened and I watched as he placed two discs on the changer. My curiosity was getting the best of me, until he handed me the case. The Best of The Police. I should have known.

  My hands slid over the soft, leather seats. The windows were tinted and we were locked in.

  “How long till we get there?” I asked.

  “Not long enough,” he replied, crushing my lips beneath his and his body to mine. I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, kissing him. There was no hesitancy in our actions. I pulled his hair, forcing his head backward and left a trail of kisses along his neck. His hands held my hips and I could feel his arousal through our clothes, pressing hard against me. I started to rock back and forth against his erection, my panties getting wet with each movement. His hands had been guiding my hips, but now moved upward, sliding my t-shirt off and unfastening my bra.

  My breasts swayed heavily before his face. His warm breath mingled with the shock of cool air from the moon roof, making my nipples erect. Alan took one into his mouth as I continued to grind against him. An avalanche of pleasure came over me as I felt his tongue teasing me.

  Back in college, Alan and I could not get enough of each other. Every time we were together the ultimate goal was lovemaking. It was as if we needed sex more than food, water or air. When we weren’t having sex, we were talking about it. When we weren’t together, we were thinking about it. I thought there was something wrong with us.

  All day I’d stared at those green eyes and something inside me fluttered. It was pure torture being a few feet away and unable to touch him. The air had crackled with electricity. We would have done anything to be alone.

  And now we were. Speeding to some unknown destination, desperate to feel each other’s touch inside and out. I think it was safe to think neither one of us wanted this moment to end.

  Alan couldn’t take any more teasing. He slid me off his lap and onto the seat beside him. Kneeling before me, he slipped off my shorts and panties while I stripped him of his shirt. For a moment, I pressed my chest to his, my nipples hard against his and kissed him. His lips finally left mine and traveled south across my neck, breasts and stomach. Gently he parted my legs, bending down between them.

  A sigh of desire rose from my throat as he began to stroke my clit with his tongue. Each flick drove me to madness. This was one thing we never did all those years ago. Each stroke was deliberate and commanding. I groaned as he buried his face inside me, his tongue exploring the very depths he re-discovered last night. I wanted to come, more than I’d ever wanted to before. My back arched and I cried out as I exploded into orgasm. Alan continued his strokes until my breathing slowed.

  I reached for him but he refused, straightening between my knees, he removed his pants and his cock sprang upward, roused and ready. Holding my legs in his arms, he entered me, plunging deep and hard inside me.

  “Ohhhhhhh!” I cried out, not caring who heard me – the driver, pedestrians, none of them mattered. “Please, baby, please . . .” I begged for him as he drove harder and faster, in and out of my body. His beautiful face was contorted with agony. The sight of it only spurred me on, like the sounds of my juices on him as he moved inside me. Everything about this was crazy, ferocious and desperate. It was amazing and horrifying but it didn’t matter.

  “Laura, I’m gonna come . . . come so hard inside you . . .” His voice was rough and startled me into orgasm. My whole being contracted. It felt so good. He was reaching his peak.

  “I want you to come inside me. I want to make you feel good,” I barely got the words out before he roared in ecstasy, thundering through his climax, his body locked in one long, pleasurable spasm.

  Alan collapsed onto me, his head on my chest, breathing heavily. We lay there for a few moments, the cool air mixing with our perspiring skin. I wrapped my arms around him, kissed his hair, and stroked his back. There was an overwhelming desire to comfort him, protect him. From what? I didn’t know.

  Once we regained our composure, I gently asked him, “So, where are we going and how long will it take?”

  Alan raised his head, laughing, “The ocean. We are going to the beach.”

  I sat straight up, “What? But that will take hours, won’t it?”

  He raised one hand, “No, we are already halfway there. Just enough time to go again.” That deliciously wicked smile crossed his face.

  It was a cool night – unusual for this time of the year, but perfect for a moonlit walk along the beach. We strolled, hand-in-hand, barefoot on the sand, stopping every now and then to kiss. My head was spinning. Somewhere a voice nagged at me, telling me this would all end soon, but I waved it aside. It felt so right. So completely perfect. I didn’t want anything to interfere. But something would interfere - our lives. Even with my best attempts at denial, the fact flashed before my eyes like a warning.

  “Alan?”

  “Hmmm?” He was smiling at me.

  “What is going to happen to us?”

  He stopped, turning me to face him, “I don’t know. You’re worried about it, right?”

  I nodded. I would have done anything not to have said that.

  Alan responded by kissing me softly. A small whimper escaped me. His lips were so soft, so sweet.

  I pushed away from him, “The fantasy will end in four days.”

  “Then I suggest,” He moaned softly, reaching for me and pulling me close, “that we make the most of those four days . . . and nights.”

  I leaned into his kiss, surrendering my body to his touch, but the voice in my head got louder. “I agree,” I gasped as he kissed my neck, “but I’m afraid that I’m,” I stopped, pulling away. How could this be? I almost told him I was falling in love with him! The stark reality of it, even though it went unsaid, shocked me as if I had been doused with cold water.

  His face clouded over, “afraid that you’re what?” Alan tightened his grip on me, almost shaking me. Those once gleaming eyes became dark, “what do you feel right now?”

  A raindrop landed on my face, followed by another, then another. I said nothing. And yet, that might have spoken louder than words. I didn’t even notice that a warm rain began to fall, gently at first, becoming heavier with each passing moment of silence. My clothes were wet, clinging to my body. I didn’t want to answer him.

  Alan looked up at the sky, and then returned his gaze to me. A kind of sadness seemed to hang in the air between us.

  “Laura,” he whispered hoarsely, “Laura, I love you.”

  I staggered backwards, feeling the full weight of his words as if struck by a blow. Alan stood there in the rain, looking at me unapologetically. He was in pain.

  It only took a moment before I closed the gap between us, “I love you too, Alan.” My arms circled around him, “I love you too.”

  We stood in the rain for quite a while, as if the water could wash away the aching fear behind those simple words. Slowly, we walked back to the waiting limo and climbed inside. Soaked to the skin, exhausted and spent, we lay in each others’ arms the whole way back to the hotel. What he was thinking, I do not know. I can only imagine that, like me, he was also wondering, what now?

  Chapter 10

  Nick Connelly was so quiet when I first met him that he was almost invisible. The Dean, on the tour I g
ot my first day of work, warned me that he was shy. Carol, the department secretary said he was just introverted. Some of the other faculty thought he was arrogant, an elitist. I didn’t give him a second glance.

  It was a rainy, April afternoon. I'd spent so much time in my office I was contemplating suicide, so I decided to take a break and hit the cafeteria. I shook my umbrella and coat and parked them at the door. After grabbing a cup of coffee and slice of artery-clogging cheesecake, I walked into the hall with my tray. Only one other person was there. Nick was sitting alone at a table, a book open on the table, but he was staring out the window at the rain. I remember thinking, how very James Dean.

  “Would you mind if I joined you?” I asked. It seemed absurd that he was the one person in the department I didn’t really know.

  “Please,” he smiled and waved toward the chair opposite him.

  I held my hand out, “Laura Smith. And you’re Nick Connelly. Right?”

  He looked amused, shook my hand and nodded, “Nothing gets past you.” Nick looked at my cheesecake and arched his eyebrow, “A bit decadent, isn’t it?”

  “I can resist anything but temptation,” I responded.

  Nick laughed, “Oscar Wilde. An excellent quote.”

  “It’s my personal motto,” I replied as I skewered a forkful of cheesecake, “I want it on my tombstone. I’d like everyone to wonder what I died from.”

  Nick laughed softly and that was how our friendship began. We started out meeting every afternoon in the empty cafeteria, and then branched out into a couple of lunches a week. It didn’t take me long to realize that he wasn’t shy at all, just quiet. I became obsessed with our afternoon “teas,” as he called them. I never missed one.