by Betsy Anne
Period. That was it. No more discussion. I knew better than to try to argue, I would be out on my butt with nothing. At least Chicago is a great city. I spent thousands of my daddy’s dollars on Michigan Avenue the first week. The doormen at my hotel jumped to attention whenever they saw me coming loaded down with bags, and they would stumble over themselves to assist. Of course I tipped them well, but they were much happier when I gave them a little attention. I even blessed one of them with one of my famous blowjobs. He was cute and had followed me up with my bags. I told him I was out of cash to tip him, and I grabbed his crotch at the same time. He was surprisingly well-hung; I could barely fit him down my throat. I made a mental note to fuck him next time.
A young, attractive woman doesn’t have to venture far to find attention, especially in a big city. My hotel had a bar in the lobby, and there were quite a few hot spots not far away. Any given night I was feeling up for a little company, I would head out in one of my eye-popping outfits. I enjoy the cat-and-mouse most nights, but sometimes a girl just needs a quick fuck. No names, no phone numbers, just a hot traveling businessman with a cold wife at home. Easy target. He doesn't want strings anymore than I do. I’m giving him a great deal, too. He doesn’t have to jerk off or hire a hooker. I’m free, and the best fuck he'll ever have.
I finally move into my dorm in mid-August. My parents have at least done right by me in requesting no roommate. I really don’t get along with many women, especially girls my own age. They think I’m a bitch, and I find them boring. Better for all of us if I don’t try.
The guys on the other hand, well, college life is definitely going to agree with me. Men of all different flavors and ages all here for the taking. I do have an age limit, though. I’ve had too many geezers who take forever to come, and quite a few too young who can’t get their dick out before they shoot their load. I’m like Goldilocks, I guess, I want them just right.
I search around campus for my next class. Bio lab, I think. I let my counselor choose my schedule for me. I really don’t give a shit what I take, I’ll ace it all anyway. All I need is my degree, and then I’ll marry a rich old fuck and be set. No more Mommy and Daddy holding the purse strings. I locate the building with a few minutes to spare, thank goodness; I hate being late. It's a large lab, mostly freshmen and sophomores, and it’s loud. I have to make an entrance, of course. I flip my long hair over one shoulder and head down to the front. The weather is warm, and I’m wearing skimpy white shorts. I find that thongs that show through are tacky, so I choose to wear nothing underneath. Why hide it? I get the usual appreciative stares from the men, and even some of the girls. There’s something I haven’t done, I’ll have to check out a co-ed, shake things up a bit.
I grab a seat in the front row, and make sure my tank top is nice and low. It’s always best to start out giving the professor or lab rat something to remember. I laugh to myself just how easy life can be for me. I hear the door close loudly in the back of the classroom, and the chatter quiets down. I look up, and my heart stops.
This fucking guy is the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.
He’s tall, really tall, maybe six-five? Taller? And the body, holy shit, the body. He’s wearing a tight cotton workout shirt with some loose jeans, and he’s making my mouth water. Screw the grade; I have to fuck this guy. I feel myself getting wet through my skimpy shorts, and I ache to rub my clit to ease the pulsating. His dark brown hair is longer on top like he hasn't had time for a haircut, or just doesn't care. His eyes are a shocking blue, with thick lashes that are beautiful. He’s beautiful, truly beautiful. He’s mine. Thank God for Mom and Dad sending me to Chicago.
I notice I’m not the only girl in the room who swoons. I hear a few gasps behind me when he turns to write a few things on the whiteboard. His back is chiseled, and so his ass. I can tell, even through the unimpressive clothes, the man is hot. Funny thing though, he doesn’t carry himself like he cares that he’s God’s gift to women.
He introduces himself as Jason Weber, graduate assistant and Ph.D. candidate. He’s a physical therapist specializing in sports medicine and rehabilitation. Oh my Lord, to have that man’s hands manipulating my body, it would be worth a debilitating injury. He dives right into the subject matter, and he’s clearly really smart, too. Is there anything this man can’t do? As he writes on the board, I notice a gleaming gold wedding band. Shit! Not that the presence of one of those has stopped me before, but this time it’s different. I want him without the hassle of a wife. I’ll have to ask around and see if I can find out his story.
Chapter 30
Katie
Colleen is bouncing in her chair. Just spit it out, for God’s sake!
“Well, it would seem our Ms. Cynthia attended Northwestern!” she says.
I look at her like she’s lost her mind.
“That’s it? That’s your big news?” I practically scream at her. I know I’m looking at her like a crazy person. “You’re going to have to do better than that, Colleen. Who cares if she went to Northwestern? That must be how she knows Jason!”
Poor thing looks dejected.
“Well, I know! That’s the point. He must be old friends with her or something, and that’s how she knows him.”
“I get it Coll, but we live in Chicago. Lots of people here went to Northwestern, but they don’t have their hands on my husband and freak out when they see me!” I realize I’m raising my voice, and the feeling that I had almost lost is creeping back. “What the hell?”
“Well, that’s not all. Last night, she came down to the bar. It was packed with conference attendees. Tom and I were sitting with a group in the corner, and I had a great view of her. She changed into a very revealing dress that even Tom couldn’t help but notice when she walked in. She walked straight to the bar, and in a matter of minutes was surrounded by men all trying to buy her drinks.”
“She chose one, not even the best-looking one, with a ring on his finger. They sat and had a couple of drinks, then I saw her place her hand on his leg and move it toward his crotch. Poor guy looked like he’d swallowed an egg! She whispered something to him, and he paid the bill and followed her out. About thirty minutes later, we were still in the bar when she came back! She played the whole scene out again. Tom was stunned. That’s something men only read about in Playboy. She seemed depressed, never really smiling unless she was trying to charm someone. Kat, that’s not normal behavior. The woman clearly has major issues.” She looks hopeful.
“Is that really supposed to make me feel better? A woman who goes through men at a bar was also seen with my husband in a bar together on Valentine’s Day?” I burst into tears. Melanie and Colleen rush over and give me a group hug. Colleen speaks first.
“Kat, all I meant was that she’s a slut! Jason would never associate with anyone like that on any level, even if he were single. She’s not his type no matter what she looks like. She’s trash, and he doesn’t mingle with trash.”
She says it so definitively, that it makes me stop crying. She’s one hundred percent right. Whatever the reason for them being together, I know Colleen hit the nail on the head. Whether or not he and I were together, he wouldn’t hang around a woman like that. I wipe my face, and stand up.
“I’m going to talk to him right now. This is so foolish. You both stay here, I’ll be back soon and we’ll have a great day with all this bullshit behind us.”
I give them both a big smile, and head home.
Chapter 31
Katie
“Honey? Jason?” I call out when I enter the house. It’s really quiet. I tiptoe upstairs, thinking maybe I’ll luck out and catch him getting dressed. I open our bedroom door, and the poor thing is sound asleep. He looks so handsome and so young when he sleeps. He’s wearing only a pair of gray workout shorts, and he looks yummy. I near the bed and see that he’s tangled in the sheets. I try my best to straighten them without waking him, and I cover him back up. I run my hand along his jaw and he moves just a little. I kiss hi
m on his hair-God he smells good-and tiptoe back out the door. I’ll go back to the girls and we can all get together later. He never gets a chance to rest, so I let him sleep.
I pass by the home office as I head out the front door, and I hear a text message notification. He doesn’t text a lot, never in business, and it’s usually just to me. Curiosity gets the better of me, so I head in to see who it is. The text is still on the lock screen so I can read it clearly. It’s from a number I don’t recognize.
Did you find out anything? You better tell me what she knows, or I’ll have to go to her.
I feel myself getting sick, and I run to the bathroom just in time. I haven’t eaten today, so there’s nothing but a little coffee coming up and a lot of dry heaving. I have to get back and read more. Against the screaming protests in my head, I go back to his office. I pause for a second to see if he’s awake, and it’s quiet so I grab his phone. Jason has never had a passcode on his phone; he’s never had to. We’ve always respected each other’s privacy, but we also have nothing to hide. I feel sick doing this. I swipe the text to open the message stream. It’s a local area code, but I’ve never seen the number. There are cryptic messages from what seems to be a woman. Her tone is threatening, and his tone is defensive. Nothing concrete about a relationship, but they clearly have one of some kind. I feel a dagger through my heart. The phone buzzes again with a new message, same number. It’s a photo.
I open the photo and it’s her getting fucked from behind. I think I’m going to throw up again. I hear Jason’s footsteps upstairs, and I quickly forward myself the picture then delete it from his phone. A strange wave of calm washes over me, and I set his phone back carefully, just the way it was.
I leave his office, head out the front door and close it silently behind me. I start to shake uncontrollably as I make the walk down to Melanie’s house. I open her door, and they both rush me.
“Oh my God! What the hell happened? You’re white as a ghost!” Melanie guides me to the living room and sits me down on the sofa. Colleen carries a glass of red wine and hands it to me. This isn’t what my stomach wants right now, but I need something to calm my nerves or I’ll never speak again. They're perched like two little parakeets, side by side, at the edge of the sofa waiting for me to speak. I hand Colleen my cell without saying a word. She doesn’t quite understand until she turns it on. She sees the picture, and pales. Melanie grabs it and screams. “What the fuck is that? Who sent you that?”
They both stare at the photo and then back at me until I find my voice.
“She sent that to Jason this morning,” I squeak.
Colleen makes the photo larger.
“Oh my God, that’s the first guy from the bar last night. What the fuck, why is she sending that to Jason?”
I shoot her a bitchy look. Does she really want me to answer that question? She is properly ashamed.
“I’m sorry, hon, you know what I mean.”
And I do.
“Where was Jason when you got home? Did you talk to him? Does he know about this?” Melanie asks gently.
“He was taking a nap when I got home, so I didn’t wake him. I heard a text coming in to his phone so I checked it. That’s what popped up.”
“Did you look at the message stream? Anything else?” Colleen is trying to recover.
“Yeah, I did. It was strange. He seemed angry with her in most of the texts, and it seemed as if she was threatening him. She did mention seeing me, and he said he needed to find out what I know.”
That was hard to say out loud. It makes this whole thing more real. I know the right thing to do is go to him directly and show him what I’ve seen. The problem now is that I know for sure he’s hiding something, and I have to find out first what it is. What is his relationship with her, and why is she sending him these photos? Right now, I don’t think I can look him in the face without giving myself up. I’m crushed.
Chapter 32
Jason
I’m famished. That run really took it out of me this morning and I need some fuel. I head down to the kitchen to make a sandwich. I miss Katie and the kids. I’m never here alone this much, and it’s way too quiet without them. I can’t lose them; they're my entire world. I’d give away every cent I have just to keep them safe. I’m tired of being threatened; it’s time to pull the trigger. I’ve had such a stressful week, and I can’t even talk to Katie about it. She’s the only stress reliever that works for me. I can run as hard and fast as I can, lift weights or box, but none of it calms my nerves like five minutes of staring into her face.
My head feels a bit clearer now that I’ve gotten some exercise, a nap and some food. May as well try to get a little paperwork done while the house is quiet. My phone buzzes when I walk around my desk. It’s her. Fuck.
Did you get my picture? How does it feel, huh? You like seeing me fuck a random guy? Enjoy it.
What picture? I know if I don’t respond, they’ll get worse and with more frequency. I have to stop her. It’s just a matter of time before Katie sees something she shouldn’t and jumps to the wrong conclusion. I text her back: Wow, that’s hot. Where can I meet you?
She’ll fall for that, I know.
My hotel where the conference is. I have a nice big room where you can fuck me, FINALLY
Perfect. Can’t wait. What time?
She responds immediately; she’s excited. Meet me in the bar at eight. Don’t make eye contact; just follow me up to Room 532. I’m already wet.
God, I hope I’m ready for this.
Chapter 33
Cynthia
It takes time, but I learn about my man, Mr. Weber. He grew up in the Chicago suburbs, a real sports hero. Graduated with honors, went to Northwestern for his undergrad and P.T. degrees and is almost finished with his doctorate. Apparently he married his high-school sweetheart. Gag. That one will be really easy to go around. She probably got knocked up in high school and trapped him. Once he sees what he’s been missing all these years, he’ll be on his knees begging for more. I’ve tried a few times to get him alone after class, but he usually makes a hasty exit with the announcement that if we need him, to please email and we can set up a meeting. Well, that’s even better. Alone is always better.
I send him an email to tell him that I’m really lost in class and could use some help. That’s a laugh. I could pass this class in my sleep. We arrange to meet in the conference room by the science offices on Monday at one. He’s shrewd, no meeting in private spots. Those conference rooms are surrounded by glass. This is just the first step. I have to be patient.
I’m already waiting for him in the room at 12:45 p.m. so I can watch him walk down the hallway. I want to see his reaction when he sees me. I love the way men gawk when they first take notice. I see a tall shadow coming down the hall; it must be him. The offices are quiet; I think everyone is out to lunch. Maybe it will be private after all. He’s looking down at a book as he’s walking. Pretty impressive; he doesn’t look up because he clearly knows his way around the place. Here he comes! He opens the door and looks at me. I’m wearing my sheerest button-down blouse with a lacy white bra underneath that’s visible. I have on a pair of white shorts that are even shorter than the ones I wore to class the first day. My top covers them so it looks as if I’m naked underneath. My legs are long and tan, and I have them carefully stretched out to the side so he can have a full view. My hair is down, just covering the front of my blouse. When he looks at me, I purposefully toss my hair over my shoulder so that my shirt is exposed. This is a practiced maneuver that I make seem innocent. He looks right into my face. His eyes never move, not even a little. He is all business, shit! He may end up being a tough nut to crack, but that makes the chase all the more fun. I haven’t had to work at getting a guy in a long time. Well, ever, really.
He’s in his work clothes: khaki pants, and a royal-blue polo with his practice’s name embroidered on the chest. The sleeves are straining around the muscle in his arms, and the pants make his bulge stand
up and say hello. I’d love to say hello right back. He questions me on the exact points I’m having trouble with, shows me some websites to help, and explains, in detail, what our next lab will cover. His eyes never once leave my face, or seem the least bit unnerved at my looks. I don’t just have a great body; I know I’m stunning to look at. He looks at me as if I’m any other student, male or female, on any given day. He’s going to make this fun for me.
I find out where his office is, and, thankfully, it’s not far. I can pass by it innocently without having to make detours. This way, when I run into him, it will seem believable, which is exactly what happens the following week. I find out his schedule at the university. Not really hard to do since he has it posted on the website. He is booked every second of his day, it seems, taking classes, teaching classes or seeing patients. I don’t know when he gets a chance to go home and see his lovely wife. I bet he has a really bad case of blue balls. God knows I could suck him dry in a matter of seconds and go back for more.
There’s a coffee shop within view of his practice. On Wednesday mornings he’s at the university until twelve. I overheard him say he’s usually in his office for patients by two, thanks to an inquiring young P.T. wannabe in our class. I post up at the coffee shop and wait. Sure enough, ten minutes until two, he shows up. I see his car pull into the parking lot and that’s my cue. I hop out of the coffee shop and head up the sidewalk so he’ll be forced to pass me. I pretend to be looking away, but drift over to his side of the walk. We gently bump into each other, God his body is tight, and he looks up to apologize.
