                           Best Served Cold

                            by Night Writer




The lounge was crowded. It was Saturday night, and the barflies were 
out in swarms.  We took the booth at the end of the room, hidden 
slightly from the crowd in a corner recess that hinted at false 
privacy.  Exactly two drinks later he settled in next to her, 
drooling at my wife as he would a juicy steak.

"My God, you look delicious tonight, Linda."

My wife stared at him with wide, hungry eyes.  She had finished her 
second of two drinks in the time it took me to finish one.  Drinking 
was something she did on special occasions - our anniversary or New 
Year's Eve - and I could see she was unsteady from the two whiskey 
sours forced down over the past thirty minutes.

I flinched when he placed his hand on her thigh, and again when he 
spoke.

"My name is Stephan.  You must be David.  I hear you've been a naughty 
boy." 

He looked across the table at me and grinned.  His eyes glittered with 
the promise of trouble.  Linda saw him watching me and followed with a 
small smile of her own.  

He took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it lightly.

"Your wife is most appreciative.  I like that in a woman."

He leered at her, suggesting much more than the words that dripped from 
his mouth.

Suddenly he was more businesslike. He looked at me, as if to assure he 
had my attention.

"Tonight you'll learn that hell really does 'hath no fury like a woman 
scorned'."

"What do you mean by that?" I stammered.

"Relax, David.  Your wife has decided to forgive your little 
indiscretion - but only after having a go at your game herself.  Look 
at it as punishment, or a lesson, but either way she's decided on her 
price.  I'd suggest you pay it."

I shot her a questioning look, expecting her to explain.  She didn't.

"So, what's this 'price' he's taking about?" I asked finally.

Her smile grew wider.  She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of 
her glass, brought it slowly to her mouth, and gently sucked the 
moisture from it before answering.  Her eyes were glassy, her 
pupils large, dark wells of mystery.

"You had your fun.  Now it's my turn."

She turned toward him, pulled him close, and covered his mouth with 
hers.  The kiss was long and deep.  A minute passed, then two.  She 
sucked at him hungrily, her tongue wrestling with his, her hands 
clutching him from behind his neck.  I heard her moan softly as she 
melted away from him, then faced me again with the same smile.

Stephan composed himself, took a long drink of scotch, and sighed.

"It's been an interesting week, David - one I'll remember for a long 
time to come."

"An interesting week? What does he mean?" I hissed.

She eyed me coolly, then looked straight at me as she spoke in a voice 
I was afraid could be heard at the next table.

"I've given myself to Stephan. He owns me - or has, for the past week, 
until midnight tonight.  Your affair lasted much longer, but I thought 
a week would be enough.  Any longer and I might not have been able to 
stop.  He's handsome, strong, and very sexy - it just seemed to make 
sense.  I put myself in his hands - told him I'd do anything he wanted 
for one week.  Anything."

She looked over at him and wet her lips.  His hand had edged her dress 
up, and was now stroking her thigh.

"I have a request, Linda.  Your husband is somewhat incredulous at this 
point.  I can certainly understand why.  You can move things along with 
a gesture of your willingness to cooperate.  I'd like you to find the 
ladies room, then remove whatever you're wearing under this 
conservative little black dress - bra, panties, slip, nylons - 
everything.  Put all of it in your purse, and return to us wearing 
nothing but your dress and shoes.  While you're gone, David and I will 
get to know each other better.  Run along now.  We'll be counting the 
minutes..."

She left the table without a word.  I had no trouble reading the mix of 
fear and excitement on her face.  

We sat in silence for a long time before he spoke.  The waiter returned 
with another round of drinks.  The muzak changed from pop to classical.  
Growing beads of water trickled down the side of my glass, each droplet 
collapsing into the fresh paper napkin.

"If you could have only seen her the day she offered herself to me."

"She didn't offer herself to you.  You'll never make me believe - "

"She went to her knees the first time I asked.  I can still see her 
small fingers unzipping me, fumbling with my belt.  And later, again, 
in the park, how her diamond sparkled in the afternoon sun."

"You lying son of a bitch."

He went on as if I hadn't said a word.

"She closed her lips around my cock, almost dutifully, as I might have 
expected from your wife.  She sucked me until I gave her every drop, 
then swallowed all of it without complaining.  I like that, too.  I had 
her go braless during our stroll in the park.  We found a secluded spot 
behind a hedge near a playground.  She opened the front of her blouse 
just before she blew me again.  We could hear the children's laughter 
as she milked me with her mouth.  Her nipples hardened so quickly under 
my fingertips..."

He smiled and took another sip of his drink, taking in my reaction.

"Linda wouldn't do that. I don't believe any of it!"

"I can see why you'd think that at this point.  But given time, I think 
you'll be surprised at what your wife is capable of.  Most women are 
sluts at heart.  Linda is certainly no exception.  She's well on her 
way to proving it."

I didn't know what to think.  Linda was someone I had known for ten 
years, my wife, my lover, and my friend.  Her attitude toward sex 
wasn't puritanical, but she wasn't a woman who lowered her inhibitions 
easily.  His story was preposterous, or at least exaggerated in the 
extreme. Yet, she was terribly hurt, full of the 'fury' he spoke of.  

"Have another drink, David.  Try to relax.  It's not as if I'm not 
sympathetic to what you must be going through.  Most men would rather 
kill than tolerate an unfaithful wife.  Yet tolerate her submission to 
me is exactly what you must do.  You could make it easier on yourself 
by considering an alternative to nursing your angst.  A woman's sexual 
emancipation can be very arousing.  Linda's a beautiful woman, a 
seething reservoir of untapped potential.  Witnessing the results when 
the floodgates are pried open can be exhilarating, even life-changing, 
if you'll allow it.  

"Just imagine, your own lovely wife satisfied again and again by 
another man - so quick to submit, then crave the taste of his 
cock, and finally, the fullness of it deep inside her.  I'd bet your 
pulse jumps a little at the very idea.  Tell me I'm wrong, if you 
honestly can."

Suddenly the heat became oppressive.  I was sweating.  One of the bulbs 
in the lamp suspended over our table flickered, then went out.  The 
remaining light threw sinister shadows over the face across from me.

I jumped as he slid quickly to the end of the booth and stood up.  
Linda passed in front of him and settled into the bench seat again, the 
flimsy cotton of her dress yielding to the subtle sway of her breasts.  
Stephan took his place beside her, his shoulder pressed tightly against 
hers.  

"Linda, show your husband what you've done."

She turned, giving him a puzzled look.

"Your purse, my dear.  Show him what you're hiding in your purse."

She placed it on the table and opened it, tilting it in my direction to 
show me the contents.

"No, no, Linda.  Take them out so we can see.  Your husband needs proof 
- so, we must give him proof."

She pulled the ball of soft material through the opening, separating 
straps from lace.  Bra, slip, nylons, and finally panties, all lay in a 
row beside my glass, placed there one by one as she pushed them across 
the table.  I reached out and lifted her bra, turning it mindlessly in 
my hands.  It was still warm, and smelled of her bath oil and perfume.  
I looked up to meet her eyes again.  She stared into me as though she 
was searching for something.  

"David, do you have any remaining doubts about how far your wife will 
go to please me?  She's sitting here beside me, naked under her little 
black dress.  You have the evidence in your hands.  Admit it.  She's 
completely mine."

A flush of color spread over her face.  Her blue eyes told me nothing 
as I peered into them.  They seemed to pierce the shadows, almost 
glowing in the dim light.

"You wouldn't do this to me.  You couldn't," I said unbelievingly as I 
watched the curves of her body shift under the dress.

He smiled again at my response, then reached toward her, easily opening 
the top button of her dress.  She didn't resist.  His hand dropped to 
the second button, pressing it through the tiny slit as effortlessly as 
the first.  Then the third, and fourth.  I could see the white, soft 
skin of her collarbones and a hint of the valley between her breasts.

"Linda, will you do anything I ask?"

She answered in a whisper.

"Yes"

Her eyes were still locked on mine.

"Linda, expose your breasts for me."

She turned suddenly toward him.  Her mouth opened as if she might 
have discovered the limit to which she would willingly continue their 
little game.  She caught herself before uttering a sound, poised at 
the edge, calculating the distance before she jumped.

"Are you refusing?"

"I - no, I'll do it."

She undid two more buttons and pulled the front of the dress open, 
hoping the generous display of breast and nipples would satisfy him.  
He turned toward her, placed a hand on each of her shoulders, and 
slowly inched the dress over them, stopping halfway down her arms.

"Now, expose them, as I asked."

The bar was quieter now, but still echoed with the steady hum of voices 
and the clatter of empty glasses.  She peered around the corner of our 
booth, then, with trembling fingers, coaxed each bare breast into the 
light.  The V formed by the remaining buttons forced them up and 
outward, her small pink nipples thrust forward into the dim light.  

"I know what you're thinking, David.  Your wife is sitting in public, 
practically naked to the waist.  Anyone who happens by would certainly 
get an eyeful.  Will it be our handsome young waiter, or a drunken 
customer who's lost his way?  I'm betting on the waiter.  What do you 
think?"

Her face went crimson.  She stared at the ice melting in her tall 
glass, her creamy breasts heaving with each breath.  

"Well, I'm sure you're thinking many things.  So many excuses for her 
behavior must be racing through your head.  But before this night is 
over, you will have to face the truth, the real reason she's given 
herself to me for the past week.  It's why she brought you here 
tonight."

I expected to pay, and pay dearly for the brief affair with Joanna.  
Linda had found the hand-written birthday card in the front pocket of 
my suit jacket.  The suggestive wording was damning enough, but it was 
the picture of Joanna in the nude, sitting on my desk, cupping her 
breasts with both hands with a come-hither look that told the whole 
story.  It was just sex - feral, spontaneous, animal sex; sex with no 
strings or emotional attachment.  That hadn't been much consolation to 
Linda.  She was devastated.  She brooded for weeks, then seemed to 
recover.  Now this.

"I'm sorry.  I know I hurt you.  I'm so sorry, Linda."

It was another of many apologies.  I knew that.  She had ignored the 
others, but this one brought an air of superiority to her.  She sat up 
a little straighter with shoulders back, thrusting her bare breasts 
toward me.

"It hurts doesn't it?  I spent weeks imagining the things you and 
Joanna did together.  I tortured myself, trying to find some way to get 
over what you did, trying to figure out whether there would ever be a 
way to forgive you, to stay with you.  When I met Stephan, I knew what 
I had to do.  For me.  For us."

I couldn't believe this was my wife sitting across from me.  As she 
talked, she seemed taller, almost towering over me in her seat.  She 
glared at me, her lips savoring the wicked satisfaction of each word.  

"For us?  You didn't do this for us!" I spat back at her.

Stephan casually fished an piece of ice from her glass.  

"You're wrong, David.  I did it for me first, but ultimately for us.  I 
had to make sure you knew how I felt, how much it hurt.  I wanted you 
to know that another man touched me in ways that made me dripping wet - 
a man so beautiful, so skillful at what a woman needs, that I'd do 
anything for him.  So now, you 're the one who will have to imagine 
what we did together.  He made me do things we never did.  And I liked 
it - no, loved it - all of it.  I couldn't get enough of him.  And he 
was always there - big, and hard, and - "

She stopped in mid-sentence with a sudden gasp.  Stephan touched the 
ice to her nipple, moving it in small circles over the rising bud of 
pink flesh, then continued outward over the white mound of her breast.  
Her eyes closed.  Her breathing came in ragged, jerking pants.

Stephan watched her face with fascination as he turned his attention to 
the other breast and nipple.  After the ice melted, he rolled the 
nipple softly between thumb and forefinger.  The pink bud hardened 
quickly, pouting at me as though she had willed it.  

"Isn't she magnificent, David?  So deliciously hungry.  Completely lost 
in her own desire.  But please Linda, continue.  This is your night, 
your chance to tell him what you feel."

She opened her eyes, studied me for a few seconds, then turned to 
Stephan.  Her hand disappeared under the table, moving gently in his 
lap.

"I want you to touch me Stephan.  I live for the feel of your tongue 
against me, wetting my belly until it's cool and slick, gliding over 
the insides of my thighs until I scream for relief."

Suddenly her eyes were on me. They were filled with fire and arousal.
A droplet of water fell from her nipple, spreading into a small spot on 
her dress.

"Something happens to me when I take him in my hands.  He's hard for 
me, well, constantly.  Not just hard.  Throbbing.  I could play with 
his cock for hours.  A large juicy drop forms so quickly at the tip 
right before he comes in my hands - God David, if you only knew how wet 
I am just thinking about it."

She hadn't taken her eyes off me.  They were eyes I no longer knew.

We sat there in silence, both trembling, for very different reasons.

Finally, Stephan ventured into the uneasy distance between us.  

"Beautifully done, Linda.  I'd say David should have no reason to doubt 
your pain, or your sincerity.  Why don't you button your dress.  I 
think he's seen enough." 

She continued to look at me defiantly, waiting a while before pulling 
the dress over her shoulders and buttoning the front. 

The waiter arrived seconds later with another round of drinks.  His 
eyes never left the front of her dress. I was sure he could see 
glimpses of soft skin between the spaces where the material opened 
between the buttons.  Stephan called him back just as he turned away.  

"Linda, I believe you have an admirer."

I guessed he was a college student, a sandy-haired kid of about 20.  
His fair skin turned bright red as he tried not gawk.

"It's ok," he assured the boy.  "She's a beautiful, sexy woman.  No one 
could blame you for staring."

Linda glanced from the boy to me, then back again.  The dress was like 
wet tissue paper over her moist, distended nipples.

"I do have to keep a tight rein on her in public though, especially 
when she drinks.  She really has no shame at all.  Do you know that 
she's naked under this pretty black dress?  Isn't that right, Linda?"

She smiled up at the boy, replying with a slow wink.

"He's very cute," she teased.  

The waiter saw her bra and panties piled beside my glass.  His 
expression changed from embarrassment to hopeful amusement.  

"Do you think I'm beautiful - ," she squinted at his name tag, " - um, 
Chuck?"  

"Yes I do. Very beautiful," he replied, smiling widely.  

"Well, Chuckie, I'm not so sure my husband over there thinks so.  He's 
fucking his accountant, Jo-an-na.  The smaaart and sexxxy Jo-an-na."  

She was slurring every other word, and I could hear anger creep into 
her playful banter.

"Mmmm - but Stephan thinks I'm beautiful, don't you Stephan?"

"Of course, my pet.  Outstandingly, outrageously, irresistibly so."

He grinned at her, but she was still preoccupied with the waiter.

"So, Chuckie, he says he's not fuck-ing her anymore.  He says it was 
just sexxxx.  He says he's sorrrry.  Think I should believe him, 
Chuckie?  Whadya think?"

The kid squinted at me with a puzzled look.  This was a complication he 
hadn't counted on.

"Well ma'am, I really wouldn't know."

She sighed in disgust, her eyes now lowered to his obvious erection.  
When she looked back up at him, the temptress had returned.

"Hmm - but don't you think that if he can fuck other women, I should be 
able to fuck other men?  You do think I'm fuckkk-able, don't you, 
Chuckie?"

He decided a change in attitude was in order - from opportunist to 
diplomat.

"Well, all I can say is that if I had a lady like you, I'd spend all my 
spare time at home."

She whirled to face me, spilling her drink as her hand flashed in the 
air before me, her finger wagging in my face.

"See!  HE wants to fuck me!  Lots of men want to fuck me!  I'll bet 
Chuckie could fuck me all night!  And I'd love it!  How do you like 
that?  Want to watch me suck his big, hard cock?  Want to watch Chuckie 
stick it in me and fuck me till I scream?  Do you?  Do you?"

I could hear the conversation in the next booth go suddenly silent as 
she raised her voice.  She leaned toward me, red-faced and wild-eyed, 
as though she might actually come across the table after me.  A button 
popped open where her breasts strained at the front of her dress.  
Crescents of firm white globes taunted me through the opening.

Stephan put a large hand on her shoulder as Chuckie made a hasty 
retreat.  His touch calmed her; her body seemed to recognize it 
instantly.  She leaned into him, eyes closed, a peaceful smile 
spreading across her lips.  Stephan pushed the remains of her drink to 
my side of the table, then lifted her chin with two fingers.

"Feel better?"

She looked up at him with wanton eyes.

"Mmm - much.  Kiss me, Stephan.  Please, kiss me?"

Their lips touched, then locked together in a shameless display of 
lust.  She worked her mouth fiercely against his, biting, licking, 
devouring him with her tongue.  A second button had come undone as she 
pressed against him, allowing a small pillow of milky white flesh to 
push through the opening.  An engorged nipple turned from pink to 
angry red as it rubbed back and forth across the tweed of his jacket.  

It wasn't the Linda I knew in the seat across from me.  She panted 
openly as she writhed against him, making little sucking noises when 
her mouth broke free from his.  I had been ready to take my medicine; 
ready, I thought, to weather any form of revenge she might take.  
But this - watching her surrender so completely to a man she praised as 
"so skillful at what a woman needs" - straddled a line that might 
never be recrossed.  Could I feel her slipping away?

Much later, when she finally broke away from him, she collapsed against 
the back of the booth, panting and wide-eyed.  A third button had 
opened on the front of her dress, and I could see beads of sweat 
dotting the heaving inner curves of both breasts.  She was staring at 
me again, staring with lusty daggers. 

"You - did - this," she gasped.

"I - I know I hurt you.  I'm sorry - so sorry, Linda."

"You - did - this!" she repeated, this time louder as her breathing 
slowed.

"OK, you win!  Now I know what it feels like.  It hurts - it hurts more 
than I could have known. But please don't take this any further."

"You - did - this!  Say it! I want to hear you say it, God damn it!"

Stephan sat expressionless beside her.  His hand moved gently along her 
thigh, stroking her with the tips of his broad fingers.  Little by 
little, he pushed the hem of the dress as high as it would go, 
exposing a narrow expanse of bare thigh just visible beyond the edge of 
the table.  She spread her legs an extra inch and waited for my answer.
If it would put an end to this, I'd say what she wanted.  I'd say 
anything.

"I did this," I answered, looking solemnly into her eyes.

It seemed to satisfy her.  She smiled a smile I recognized, and her 
features softened.

"Yes, David, you did this.  And now you have to pay."

She opened her legs as wide as the seat would allow.  Stephan's hand 
wandered into the crevice between them.  She watched me as he played 
with her, his hand hidden between tightly clenched thighs that twitched 
in rhythm to his every move.  Her eyes left me only after she lost all 
control.  She inhaled sharply as a brief shiver shook her body, then 
froze for a instant as though every muscle was preparing for what was 
to come.  The tension melted from her as quickly as it had arrived.  
She slumped back in the seat, biting her lower lip to quiet the urgent 
whimpers that rose from her throat.  Her hips bucked frantically 
against Stephan's hand until her muted little cries died and she lay 
quietly against the back of the seat. 

When she opened her eyes they were drilling into me again.  Yet, her 
voice was softer now - the rage, pain, vengeance, all of it gone.

"Now you know, David."

I was sweating again.  The room narrowed and spun like a kaleidoscope.  

"Now you know just a little of what I went through for the past three 
weeks - day after day of imagining you with her, how you kissed her - 
night after night of wondering whether she was a better lover, and what 
it was that she did for you that I couldn't - weeks of torturing myself 
with images of the two of you together in bed in some cheap motel, and 
what you said to her while you fucked her.  Did you tell her you loved 
her, David?"

I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself.  It was a question 
she must have wanted to ask weeks ago, a question from the heart.  She 
caught me off-guard, still reeling from the intimacy she lavished on the 
man beside her. 

"Linda, so help me, I didn't.  I could never do that.  Never!  It was 
just - "

"I know, David.  Just sex.  You say it as though it was nothing more 
than a handshake.  'Just sex.'"

We stared at each other in silence.  It was the same familiar impasse, 
one we had reached weeks ago.  And I had walked right into it again.

Stephan cleared his throat.  He had been quiet a long time, watching us 
with interest as he sipped the rest of his scotch.  He spoke after a 
quick glance at his watch.

"Linda, might I suggest we -"

"No, Stephan.  Let me do this."

He sat back and waited for her to go on, looking slightly amused by her 
evolving confidence.  He might have owned her for a week, but now 
she was in control, and was determined to do this her way.

"I'm going upstairs with Stephan.  He has a room here at the hotel.  I 
want you to wait for me.  All this will be over at midnight.  I'll 
meet you back here, and we'll go home.  Do this, and we'll be even.  If 
you're not here when I get back, I'll leave you.  It's the only way, 
David - the only way I can stay with you."

She was no longer angry, but the look she gave me guaranteed she was 
deadly serious.  It was a final play I never could have imagined.  I 
wanted to protest, to beg her not to go with him.  I felt the contents 
of my stomach rise in my throat, and words refused to come.

"David, we're going to his room now.  I'll let him do whatever he wants 
with me - anything at all.  He can have me any way he likes, as many 
times as he likes.  I'm not your wife for the next two hours, I'm his 
possession - just a piece of willing flesh.  It's just sex, David.  
Just sex." 

With that, after gathering the scraps of clothing still piled in front 
of me, they slid out of the booth and stopped to face each other.  
His hands were on her hips; hers caressed the lapels of his jacket.  
She hadn't buttoned the front of her dress, and he was staring at her 
breasts through the gaping opening.  She looked up at him, saw his eyes 
on her breasts, and smiled with pure lust and surrender.  His hand 
stroked the small of her back as they made their way across the bar, 
then slid lower as they turned toward the bank of elevators and 
disappeared from sight.


                                     ***


Learning that your wife has had an affair is one thing.  You can try to 
deal with it as a past event.  Somehow it seems less real that way. You 
might make yourself believe her when she tells you it's over.  You 
might even convince yourself that it will never happen again, at least 
with the same guy. Watching the clock while she's having sex with him 
is a much more bitter pill.  Overwhelming jealousy and nagging 
helplessness batter your ego, reducing it to a pathetically bruised and 
bleeding carcass.  What's left isn't pretty.  

I don't remember how much I drank.  Too much.  It didn't do much for 
the pain, and the clock crawled even slower.  

Minutes after they left, another drink appeared in front of me.  I 
didn't look up.  The last thing I needed was more quality time with 
Chuckie.  

"I saw them leave.  Is there anything I can do?"

That wasn't Chuckie's voice.  She was leaning over me, hands resting on 
the edge of the table.  Her name tag was inches from my face.  

"I doubt it, uh, K.C."

Just two letters, centered on the white plastic badge.  Oh, well, 
anyone but Chuckie.

"My real name's Casey, but everyone calls me K.C."

She wasn't going to go away, so I took another longer look.  A 
sympathetic smile beamed at me from between platinum locks of shoulder-
length hair.  The black halter matched her tiny spandex shorts that 
plunged two inches below her navel and showed every detail between her 
slim legs.  "Diva" was written across her firm, upturned breasts, each 
letter made of glittering rhinestones.  Black heels, a tasteful, gold 
belly-ring, and a narrow black collar finished the look.  Small round 
glasses rested halfway down her nose.  She peered over the top of the 
gold frames at me and smiled invitingly.  Lord help me.

"Is there anyone here that doesn't know?" I asked, hoping for some 
consolation.

"Well, she was pretty loud, and Chuck loves to gossip about the 
customers."

"So, where is Chuck?"

"Oh, something came up.  He had to go, so I'm covering for him."

She was leaning against the table, the tops of her bare thighs resting 
against the edge.  The skin-tight black shorts had no legs at all, and 
even in the dim light I could see they molded her plump labia like a 
second skin, parting the fleshy lips with the seam that ran between 
them.  

"Are you sure I can't do something?"

She could do something alright.  She could go upstairs with me, let me 
tie her to the bed and fuck her until she begged for mercy.

"Well, K.C., I really don't know what you could do at this point.  The 
night's pretty much a disaster."

"Hmmm, are you really sure?  I can be a very compliant girl, if you 
know what I mean."

Her eyes narrowed, and she fingered the thin collar suggestively.

"And I can be a very stupid guy.  I guess everyone in the place knows 
what I mean."

She slid in beside me, her bare thigh pressed snugly against my own.  A 
faint whiff of coconut and cinnamon filled the booth, carried by the 
heat from her trim body.  It made my mouth water.

She leaned closer and lowered her voice.  Her breath was hot and sweet 
on my face.

"So, she's really doing it with that guy upstairs?"

"Well, she's doing something with him up there, and I'd bet it isn't 
Parcheesi."  

I finished my drink in two long, slow gulps, then watched the bottom of 
the empty glass, hoping it might fill itself so I didn't have to look 
up.  After a minute of awkward silence, she went on, this time with the 
voice of a much younger girl.

"I cheated on my boyfriend last week - right over there."

She pointed to the busy hallway leading to the kitchen.

"It was after we closed - with one of the assistant managers.  I didn't 
mean to do it - I mean, I didn't plan it or anything.  We were just 
kidding around, and before I knew it, we were tearing at each others' 
clothes.  When my boyfriend came to pick me up, he found us in the 
hallway, screwing against the wall.  He didn't even say anything.  He 
just looked at us, turned around, and left.  He won't speak to me.  I 
never got a second chance."

"You mean like I did?"

"Is it so bad? When it's over, you'll still be together.  I mean, it's 
not like she's in love with the guy, right?  It's just sex."

"Right.  'Just'."

Now I desperately needed another drink.  I guess it showed.  She 
scooped up my empty glass and had another in its place in two minutes.

She sat with me now and then over the next two hours when she found a 
few free minutes between customers.  Every other drink was on the 
house.  I lost track of how many.  I know she was more irresistible 
with each one.  

By eleven-thirty the crowd dwindled to a few regulars at the bar.  She 
plopped in beside me again, this time collapsing against me. Her head 
found my shoulder, teasing my cheek with thick swirls of silky hair.  
She still smelled delicious.  

"Mmmm - I'm exhausted.  You make a wonderful pillow."

Her breathing was deep and slow.  I could see the outline of her 
nipples through the halter.  Further down, her flat belly, smooth as 
velvet, swelled slightly with each breath as it dipped beneath the 
wisp of black spandex.  She was everything my ego craved - and 
everything that had led me to my fate tonight.

"There's still time.  No one would have to know," she breathed softly 
against my neck.

I felt her hand settle in my lap.  Her fingers traced the outline of my 
erection, then closed in around it, squeezing in a gentle, regular 
rhythm. 

"Besides, you need to feel better.  Linda's having her fun. Why 
shouldn't you have some fun too?  I'll do anything you want. Anything."

I pulled away and looked at her.  She eyed me with sudden surprise and 
confusion.

"How do you know her name?"

She froze, as though I was speaking some unknown foreign language.

"How do I - ?

"Her name.  I never told you my wife's name."

Just as suddenly, her confusion melted into the same sultry smile.

"Oh, that.  Jeez, you scared me.  I thought you were freaking out or 
something."

"I'm not freaking out.  I want to know how you know my wife's name!"

"I told you, Chuck loves to gossip, especially about his customers.  He 
doesn't leave out many details.  From what he said, your wife would 
have had any guy in the place running around with a tent in his pants 
tonight.  I mean, it was pretty obvious when he came back to the bar."

She gave my cock a few more quick squeezes, smiling lasciviously.

"C'mon.  Come play with me," she teased in her best little girl voice.

Why shouldn't I?  My wife was with Stephan, probably enjoying all the 
things she'd thrown in my face, the "things we never did" together.  
This wasn't just revenge.  She loved it.  She had said so - admitted it 
to my face.  Images came to mind that made me cringe.  Would she let 
him come inside her?  Let him come in her mouth?  What could they 
possibly do that we hadn't already done in the our own bed?  

I lowered my head into the palms of my hands.  The room was spinning 
again, and the nausea returned in nagging waves.  I'd cheat again, to 
get back at her for cheating, all because I cheated in the first place.  
And so it would go, on and on, until it destroyed us, or worse, trapped 
us in a living hell of deception and revenge.  I was teetering on the 
edge of a razor - it hurt too much to stay put, but I was too paralyzed 
by confusion and alcohol to make a leap in either direction.  

"You don't look so good.  You've had an awful lot to drink tonight."

When I raised my head to answer, I noticed she had moved away from me. 
Now she studied me with more concern than lust.  Her outfit seemed to 
shrink by the minute.  It took very little to imagine her naked, and 
even less to imagine how ravenous she would be with her lips sealed 
eagerly around my cock.  But something was wrong - or at least not 
right enough.  

"You're right," I groaned.  "Actually, I feel like I might die any 
minute now.  So as my last act, maybe I should do the right thing for a 
change.  I'm sorry.  You're more than any man I know could resist.  
Except this man, on this night.  All this has to stop, and stop now.  I 
know it might look like a huge gamble, but I still love her.  It's a 
gamble I have to take."

She took my hand a gave it a little squeeze.  There was something new 
in the way she looked at me. At first I thought it was sympathy, but 
there was something else, deeper, more meaningful.  Given my decision, 
I'd probably never know.

"Good luck.  I mean that," she told me, after a thoughtful pause.  

She left without another word, looking every bit as good going as she 
did coming.

Eleven-forty.  I went to find the men's room.  I needed a walk to clear 
my head, and some cold water on my face might be just what the doctor 
ordered.  As I circled the bar, Linda appeared under the archway 
leading to the lobby.  She waved sheepishly as I approached, then 
kissed me lightly on the cheek.  Whatever she had done upstairs, there 
was no longer any visible evidence.  Every hair was in place, her 
makeup was flawless, and I could see the faint outline of her bra under 
the dress.  

Neither one of us knew quite what to say.  She smiled at me warmly, a 
smile that told me we might survive this after all.  

"Can we go now?" I begged, more eager than ever to leave all this 
behind.

She nodded, still smiling up at me.

"Oh, I was on my way to the rest room - if I can find it."

"They're in the lobby, just past the elevators," she offered.  "I'll 
wait for you here."

There was no sign of Stephan.  I didn't ask.

When I returned, she had vanished.  After a stroll through the spacious 
lobby, I went back to the lounge.  She was at the bar, chatting with 
K.C.  I watched from under the archway, my guts churning like a 
blender.  She closed her purse and thanked her with a friendly gesture, 
turned to leave, then noticed me waiting by the entrance.  Another 
smile.  Another kiss when she reached me.

"She's pretty," she mentioned casually as we headed for the door.

"She?" I croaked, my knees now buckling with each labored step.

"Your waitress.  You forgot to pay your tab."

"Shit!  I forgot to pay her?  I've never done that.  Christ!"

"It's ok, David.  It's ok.  Let's go home."

The door closed behind us as we stepped into the crisp chill of the 
first winter storm.  She put her arm through mine and snuggled against 
me.  Snowflakes frosted her hair, sparkling like brilliant rhinestones 
on black velvet.  The lights and sounds of the hotel faded as we made 
our way through the dusting of new snow.  In time the place vanished, 
swallowed by the darkness and the frantic dance of white that slowly 
filled in our tracks, hiding all traces of the narrow trail of 
footprints that twisted backward into the night.



                                  ***



"It's over, David.  The details aren't important."

"But I can't stop thinking about it.  A few answers might help me make 
sense of it all.  Then maybe I could let it go."

"You'll get over it, David.  If I can, you can.  It was one night."

We were lying in bed.  She had buried her nose in a new paperback for 
the past hour.  I was watching an unsettling late-night movie showing 
the misadventures of a well-meaning schmuck caught up in a disturbing 
night-long chain of events in a dream-like Soho.  Twenty-four hours had 
passed, almost to the hour.

"I wish I was as sure as you seem to be.  Watching the two of you last 
night - I don't know - I don't know if I can get over it."

Her expression grew more serious as she listened.  She closed the book 
and placed it on the nightstand, then rolled on her side to face me.

"David, what if I told you none of it was real?"

She stretched her legs, then drew them up in front of her pink 
nightshirt.  I loved her legs.  They were her best feature - long, 
slim, and smooth, revealing firm swells of delicate muscle that rose 
and fell beneath satin olive skin.  

"It looked real enough to me."

"Did it?"

"Come on.  You mean I imagined him kissing you, fondling your breasts, 
masturbating you in public?  All that never happened?"

"I didn't say that, did I?"

"Then exactly what part of all this wasn't real, Linda?  Are you 
telling me you didn't fuck him?"

"I'm asking you to consider that things may not always be what they 
seem to be.  Do you remember telling me one of your fantasies?  The 
night you took me to dinner on our last anniversary?  How we came home, 
both a little tipsy after the bottle of wine with dinner, and exchanged 
fantasies before we made love?"

"I - I guess so - Christ, it that what this is about?"

"You said you thought about me having sex with another man, a stranger, 
a well-endowed one, if I remember correctly."

"But that was a fantasy!  I told you I'd never want to live it out - 
that I couldn't get around the jealousy I'd feel."

"But you're living it out in your head, David.  The things you saw 
could easily have been suggestions, innuendoes, illusions."

"What I saw was another man's hand between your legs, playing with you 
till you got off.  You had an orgasm, in public for Christ sake!"

"Are you sure, David?  It was real to you.  Does that mean it actually 
happened - everything - just the way you remember it?"

"So you didn't fuck him?"

"Does it really matter?  Think about us, David - what our marriage had 
become before last night, and where we are tonight.  I was going to 
leave you.  I loved you desperately, but my confidence that you still 
loved me was gone.  I lost faith in you, us, even myself.  I didn't 
intend to use your fantasy to punish you, but it did plant the seed of 
an idea that seemed to offer what I needed to heal.  I know I hurt you.  
I'm sorry. 

"You have to decide, David.  Was what you went through last night worth 
saving our marriage?  Did you learn how agonizing infidelity can be to 
someone you betray, even if it is just sex?  But most importantly, can 
two people love each other enough to forgive shared disloyalties and 
move on, using the past to strengthen their future?"

I was stunned.  I had thought long and hard about the motive for her 
actions - revenge, punishment, or perhaps I had pushed her far beyond 
any rational response.  I failed to consider that she did it for our 
marriage, a risky, final attempt to save us.  

I didn't have words for what I felt, so I turned to her and kissed her.  
It was the kind of kiss that told her my decision was an easy one.  She 
unfolded and pressed the length of her body against me, a perfect thigh 
thrown over my hip, her soft belly thrust tightly against my growing 
erection.  She stopped now and then, sometimes to nibble playfully at 
my ear or neck, other times just to stare hopefully at me.  A kind of 
joy filled her eyes that I had never seen.  

Then, as her lips brushed my ear again, she whispered seductively, 
"Now, about that little fantasy or yours.  Let me tell you what a bad 
girl I've been."

Some questions come with easy answers.  Others we struggle with for a 
lifetime, often fooling ourselves by conjuring a solution to the 
unanswerable.  And sometimes, well, sometimes a question is it's own 
best answer.




Read more of Night Writer's works at: http://www.asstr.org/~Night_Writer/

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