All Fore Revenge

by Piper Denna

  He was so much taller, I couldn’t see his face. But I felt it contort against my head, then his breath stopped for a few seconds and came out hot in my ear. Knowing I made this man-god feel that good made me shiver inside again, giving his shaft a little internal squeeze. Feeling him there in me was Nirvana. I breathed deeply, smelling his deodorant and good, clean sweat. Sweat I had caused.

  “Might have to hook you up with some free HBO,” he joked.

  I giggled. “Only if you have to come back another time to do it.” How many times in a week could I get the cable guy out to my house, anyway?

  He lay across me for a few more minutes, as I felt his heartbeat slowing against me. “Well, Babydoll, I hate to run, but I have another appointment coming up.” He raised himself on his elbows and deposited a soft kiss on my mouth, then got up on all fours and helped me stand. “Wish I had time for another.” His eyes seemed to search mine.

  I decided to make it easy for him. “You work in the area every day?”

  He sighed a little, looked relieved. “Pretty close.”

  “If you want, come back by. Eat your lunch, eat me…” I got him to laugh.

  “Once wasn’t enough for revenge?” His question smacked of something else. I wondered if he was fishing, hoping I wanted more from him. Unfortunately, I didn’t have more to give, so I couldn’t take it, either.

  “It’s a start. Besides, why would I deny myself when I know what’s driving around in that van now?” I asked, slipping my hand inside the boxers he’d just tugged on.

  His eyelids went to half-mast when my fingers circled him, finding him still firm. The throbbing between my legs was back. He used one hand to pull mine off him, and the other to cup my chin for a quick kiss.

  “Leave the porch light on, if it’s safe for me to stop.”

  He’d reached my front door, toolbag in hand, when I stepped nude into my hallway and asked, “What’s CJ stand for?”

  He looked sheepish for a moment before he answered, “Camden. Camden Jarek. Dad’s Scottish.”

  “Camden,” I repeated. “Cam. See ya tomorrow, Cam. Thanks.”

  *

  Waiting for lunchtime the next day was excruciating. Maybe Cam wouldn’t come back. I tried to keep my mind on the scrapbook I was working in. Normally I spent three or four hours a day writing while the kids were gone, but since finding that twit’s lipstick on Dickhead’s prick, I hadn’t felt terribly inspired.

  I’d extended my morning swim, spending an excessive amount of time floating around in the water and enjoying the aroused state that thinking of Cam put me in. All other benefits aside, the guy had given my sex drive a good shot in the arm.

  How long would I keep enjoying sex on the side? I didn’t think I was getting the charge cheaters really get, the thrill of sneaking around. It was mostly revenge, plus very good sex. Minus the usual adulterous guilt. In fact, I’d allowed myself to fantasize overnight about Bill coming home to catch me in various compromising positions with Cam the Cable Guy. The look on Bill’s face… hoo boy! That would be something.

  In the meantime, my gut told me to pretend I didn’t know what the little mister was up to. It wouldn’t be hard to pull off. He was so busy at work that time of year I usually didn’t see much of him anyway. Once it got too hot out to be bearable most of the day in Phoenix, he’d take time off and go play tournaments, leaving the kids and me behind again.

  This year, I wouldn’t be standing by to hop a last-minute flight should he start doing well and have a shot at winning. I wouldn’t rush off to share his moment of glory. Let him share it with Barely-Legal Brianna, his twenty-one-year-old personal assistant. See how long it took her to get sick of being the eternal wind beneath his wings.

  Spending more time styling my hair and applying makeup had paid off. I felt pretty, so I’d dressed in a little bit of a sundress I hadn’t worn since the vacation in the Bahamas when I’d bought it. It probably didn’t offer me the support I needed, but Cam seemed to like my breasts the way they were.

  A little snort escaped me, imagining the talk around Bill’s golf course if I showed up there in that dress. Might be worth adding to my list of possible acts of revenge.

  There wasn’t an ounce of annoyance in my consciousness this time when the doorbell rang. My heart raced, pumping blood extra-fast all through me, leaving me flushing and breathless when I pulled the door open. Cam looked just like he had the day before. He’d taken the precaution of carrying his tool bag to the door. Cute. Our driveway was so long the neighbors couldn’t see who was coming to the door, but they could see his company van drive in every day. It didn’t matter a bit to me as I pushed the door shut with my bottom and he smashed against me, hot and hard and ready for action.

  “Well, hi,” I gasped when his mouth moved off mine. His hand had already cruised up my leg, well above the high hemline of the dress. “Oh, my. Oohh.” His fingers worked magic in my panties.

  Before we’d moved away from the door, he’d made me come. He seemed a bit disappointed that I hadn’t gushed all over his hand. He’d have to learn which part of his performance the day before had brought that on. Gotta earn the gush.

  “Hi Babydoll,” he murmured in my ear, while I was still bent over and clamped around his hand. “Miss me?”

  I giggled for reply, then led him back to the den. Our room.

  He let me strip him down, kissing and caressing different parts, then he obligingly backed against the closet door when I dropped to my knees in front of him. His hands held the back of my head while I took him in my mouth, once again savoring his tastes. My sporadic moans were punctuated by his moving in and out of my throat. His moans joined mine, his hands clenched my hair, and I was sure he wouldn’t pull out. By that point, I was so turned on I wanted to take him in my throat, swallow just to see his pleasure completed. I wasn’t much of a swallower; Bill’s semen grossed me out. But I was curious and wildly horny.

  He stopped himself just in time.

  What the hell?

  Without a word, Cam gave me a hand up, turned me around, and backed me against the door where he’d been. He raised the dress and twisted my thong aside, then lifted me and damn near skewered me with his cock. A few furious pumps and he was over the top.

  He wasn’t finished yet. He carried me, still impaled, to the floor, where he lay on his back and had me lay on him. I gripped him, rubbing my clit against the furry base of his cock, as he rocked in and out of me. His nipple was right under my head, so I took it in my mouth again. It hardened between my tongue and upper lip. I lost my grip on it by smiling when he gasped something about “so fucking good.” I lost my grip on reality when I came, hard and fast, against his still-pumping shaft. My writhing down against him made him come again.

  I lay my face on his sweaty chest, listening to his heart as it pulsed under my cheek. Whether out of curiosity or courtesy, or natural interest in the person I was screwing like an animal, I asked, “You ever been married?”

  “Yeah, five years.”

  “Any offspring?”

  “Daughter. She’s nine now.”

  “Hmm.” My fingers toyed with a nipple and he jumped. His must get as sensitive after orgasm as mine did. I patted it gently and rested my palm on his pec. “How old are you?”

  “What is this? Twenty questions?”

  “Two lays, ten questions each.” I felt a rumbly chuckle in his chest.

  “I’m thirty-five. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-three. Two kids. Sons, thirteen and twelve.”

  “You had a busy coupla years.”

  “Tell me about it. Want some lunch?”

  “Already ate, on my morning break.”

  I lifted my head to see his face.

  He winked, then explained, “Didn’t know we’d get finished so fast. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time.” We shared a proud smile.

  “Does she live with you?” Cam looked confused, so I explained, “Your daughter?”

  He nodded
. “Emily. Getting to be a real pain in the ass in the morning. Wanta see her picture?”

  How weird, to be exchanging vital life facts and sharing photos of our children. Virtual strangers making small talk in this room smelling of sex.

  I rolled off him, slightly regretting the empty space he left behind in me.

  From his nearby shorts, he reached his billfold and flipped open to the photos tucked inside. There were several pictures of Emily, with blue eyes and blonde hair so pale it had been nearly transparent when she was small.

  “That’s Will,” I said, pointing to a ten-by-thirteen on the wall from that year. “And that’s Andy.” Both boys had dark coloring, like their dad.

  “I think their eyes move, and they watch me when I’m with you.”

  I laughed. “Yeah? Judging by your performance, you must like an audience.”

  “If you had a girl, I bet she’d be as pretty as you,” he told me, skimming the backs of his fingers along the edge of my face.

  This made me swallow hard, but why? I shouldn’t be embarrassed by a compliment from a man who’d seen me naked.

  “Ali.” He took my face in his hands. “Look at me.”

  Why were my eyes filling with tears? Crying time was at 8:25 a.m., not lunchtime.

  “You are pretty. Whatever his reason for cheating, it wasn’t because of what you are or aren’t. Don’t talk yourself into believing it’s your fault.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Please let the tears stop.

  “Your body is a wonderland…” he sang, his fingers grazing from my knee, along my hip, over my dress to my breast, then across my grinning lips, and at last his thumbs brushed the tears from under my lashes, bringing my eyes open. “Sorry, don’t know the rest of the words.” His eyes looking in mine weren’t aroused, like usual. There was more.

  Uh-oh. My wild piece of ass was slipping down a slope toward something I didn’t want. Rules. There had to be rules.

  “Cam.” I sat up and held his hands away from my face. They seemed to want to caress and soothe more than a wild piece of ass should. “It’s amazing having you come here like this.”

  Those sparkly eyes narrowed in expectation of the upcoming “but.” His hands pulled away from mine and his fingers traced my hairline. I struggled to find a way to say what I meant without sounding bitchy, and without using “but.” But I couldn’t.

  His fingers settled at the base of my neck, massaging gently, while his thumbs traced my jaw.

  “Quit!” I jerked away, out of his reach. My hands rubbed where his had been.

  He looked like he’d been slapped and I felt guilty, which pissed me off. “Cam,” I started again, “you’re under no obligation here, okay?” Yeah, give him his freedom, make him feel like the aggressor. “If you decide you’re done with this, I’ll be fine. When you meet somebody and start dating her, please just tell me and we’ll quit this. I don’t want anybody else getting hurt. Until then, I’m here. Just for this.” My hands swept my scantily clothed body and his nude one. Lord, looking at him again was turning me on.

  “Just for this?” he whispered, drawing me down next to him. He tugged my thong off, then his hand was between my legs, his fingers entering me. I nodded my agreement in a new haze of arousal. He was rough this time. His fingers brushed my g-spot just enough to send me arching back in expectation. Then he was between my legs, lifting my hips to meet him while he rammed into me.

  I knew he was trying to prove some point, fucking me hard, teasing me but not pleasing me. He had this angry look on his face, and his eyes were closed, like maybe he refused to look at me or was imagining I was somebody else. His pounding took the rim of his head over and over my spot. When I gushed, my fingers were kneading against my clit. I don’t remember putting them there, but I do remember watching Cam’s face, and how his eyes opened when he heard and felt the wet. My whole-body convulsions closed my eyes, but I kept the picture of the way he was looking at me. I knew he wasn’t thinking of anything but my body right then.

  It took him a bit longer to finish this time, which was understandable. I’d come back to earth and gone limp, watching him again. Cam hung over me, keeping himself propped up, determined that I see him. The point he was proving had changed. Now he wanted me to know just how much he enjoyed me.

  When he came, he cried out my name, which charmed and alarmed me, but I concentrated on watching his gorgeous face contort. One right-side dimple came out, but not the left. His collapse on me pushed my wind out in a little, “Oomph!” and I made a point to breathe deeply with him on me just to prove I could. I felt a little raw down there. Hopefully it would be better by the next day.

  Cam kissed me before he left that day and, while I liked the kiss, I wasn’t sure how I felt about him kissing me when it wasn’t foreplay. One thing I did know: I didn’t like his sympathy. That wasn’t what I needed from him. If I wanted sympathy, I’d call my mom. Or my best friend. God, this would be good to share with my old pal, but it might spoil it somehow.

  No, I’d keep it to myself, at least until I knew what to do about Bill.

  All Fore Revenge

  Chapter 2

  By mid-May I’d settled into a routine. My morning crying jag only lasted for a few minutes and occasionally didn’t happen at all. I wondered if I shouldn’t just cut it out altogether. No one else but Cam knew I’d discovered Bill was cheating. Pretending not to know was the emotional equivalent of sticking my head in the sand, but I couldn’t bring myself to face reality yet.

  My best friend Shurre would be the first person I’d tell when ready but, by this point, I felt guilty. If I told Shurre part of it, I’d inevitably spill all the beans. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I knew putting my relationship with Cam (or non-relationship, as I had stressed to him) into words would require admitting he had feelings for me and I didn’t return them. How could I? I was comfortably numb inside.

  I managed to attend the boys’ baseball games and ferry them back and forth for their golf lessons at Bill’s course. I still made it to my ladies’ golf league two nights a week. The boys saw me smiling. Being of the less perceptive sex, they hadn’t noticed my initial shock and despair, or my present drug-free yet zombie-esque state.

  Bill worked ‘til dark most days, busy giving lessons as long as the weather permitted. I avoided contact with him by closeting myself in my office with the computer whenever he was home. It had been close to a month since we’d made love, yet he’d barely made advances toward me.

  On one hand I was relieved—the fewer advances he made, the fewer I had to deflect, which meant less chance of having to reveal the cause of my avoiding the marital bed. On the other hand, it hurt. I knew Bill’s sex drive must be naturally diminishing—he was getting close to forty, after all. But the little he had in him was being put to use on Brianna. It seemed like he’d at least notice we hadn’t fooled around, and ask why I wasn’t making my usual efforts to seduce his tired body into service.

  Our sex life had been good, probably better than most, due in part to Bill’s exceptional fitness level and our lack of inhibitions in bed. I’d been young when the boys were born, and bounced right back from my pregnancies. Bill was always being invited to resorts for possible endorsements, so we got lots of free trips. Vacations together work wonders for a relationship. Yet, with all the advantages so many other people didn’t have, we’d still managed to botch our marriage. It should have been easy to put all of the blame on Bill, or on skanky little Brianna for luring him. I found it just as easy to reason that happy people don’t stray, so I must be partly at fault for Bill’s philandering.

  With few exceptions, Cam arrived daily during his lunch break. Twice he’d had emergency outages, once Andy was home sick, and Bill had taken one weekday off.

  Cam had my cell phone number and he’d call if he couldn’t make it, so I wouldn’t wait around for him. I was surprised at how disappointed I’d be on those days. Surely sex with him would get boring at some point, but I couldn’t
see it happening any time soon.

  There was a certain smugness about him after that day I’d told him he could call it quits whenever he liked. He acted like he knew something I didn’t and, for the rest of that week, the sex was very hard and fast. I felt like we were slipping every time he kissed me goodbye. He was going somewhere he shouldn’t when he maintained eye contact during our climaxes.

  *

  One day I was upstairs straightening Will’s room, and watched from his window as Cam drove up. Already on my way down to open the door for him, I felt my heart jump when the doorbell rang, and in some Pavlovian response, I could feel myself lubricating. When I let Cam in, I was grinning at the idea of opening the door to church people with a wet crotch just because they’d rung the bell.

  “What are you grinning at?” he demanded, delaying my answer with a long kiss.

  “Mmm. Hi. Oh, I just realized that the sound of the doorbell makes me wet.” To demonstrate, I put his hand up the inside of my shorts.

  Cam felt me for a second, closing his eyes as if fighting some inner battle.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “That’s it, huh? I make you wet.” His lowered brows told me he was put off.

  “Um. Wet is good, remember? Things get complicated if they aren’t wet. You have to get K-Y, or…”

  “That’s not what I fucking mean, Ali.”

  Whoa, angry was a look I hadn’t seen on him. I backed away a step, sensing that I wouldn’t like what was coming.

  He shook his head. “It’s been almost a month. A month! Is this what you’re gonna do forever? Live a lie?”

  “Not forever, just ‘til… well, for a while. If you’re not enjoying it…”

  “Yeah, I know. I can just drop you anytime and you won’t care, right?”

  “Right.”

  Why did he sound like he didn’t believe me? I met his challenging blue gaze, holding back the hard swallow in my throat. I wouldn’t back down or show weakness. No way.