by Bridy McAvoy
I shrugged, but smiled. I’d got just the reaction I’d expected. As the water and bubbles cascaded down her body, I got the view I wanted too. “I toasted us, that’s all.”
She tried to speak and couldn’t. I think she had a lump in her throat the size of a bird’s egg. She coughed and tried again. “Have you any idea how many times I’ve wanted to hear you say that in the last few days?”
I knelt down by the side of the bath and, leaning in, kissed her cheek. She smelled of lavender and sweet oils—whatever she’d added to her bath water. I ducked back out of range before she could grab me. She wouldn’t have thought twice about the mess on the bathroom floor if she’d pulled me into the bath—other things on her mind would have taken precedence. I could see the way her eyes were sparkling. Any tears this time would be for joy, not anguish.
“Why…?”
“Why not? Why wouldn’t I propose such a toast to the woman I love and want to spend the rest of my life with?”
“But…”
I had her almost speechless and pressed home the resultant advantage. “Look, you’ve just told me you were a naughty girl for a long time before we met. So what? You’ve told me you continued to be naughty right up until we got engaged. Again, that’s history. You married me, and we were happy when I didn’t know any of that. What you told me this morning was shocking, but was it really that much worse than finding out you fucked your boss five minutes before meeting me to patch up the break-up?”
She giggled at that but I could see she wanted to smile rather than laugh, but couldn’t help it. “I guess not, no.”
“Okay, you’re one up on me. You’ve taken part in a gang-bang. I’ve never got it on with seven girls at the same time.”
“You think you could handle it?”
“You think you could set it up with half a dozen of your friends?”
She looked at me suspiciously for a moment, gauging whether I was serious or not. She decided I wasn’t. “Only six?”
“Well, I’d include you in, unless you wanted to play the Dave role?”
“No chance.”
“I’ll leave it with you then. Any time suits me.”
She frowned at me and shook her head, her expression comical enough to make me laugh. Happy she’d just proven I was joking, which I was, she laughed as well. After a few moments her face went serious again.
“Listen, honey…”
“What?”
“If you feel you need to…you know…I meant it when I said I’d do anything to make it up to you. If that means setting up a threesome…or…”
“Don’t give me an open-ended promise like that.”
“Why not? You’ve been so nice…”
“Seriously, when I want you to perform at the amateur night at the local strip club I’ll let you know. Until then, the subject is closed. Mind you, Dianne at the library…”
Since Sam’s assistant at the library, Dianne, was the wrong side of fifty, the idea was so wrong it startled another laugh out of her. Quickly, though, she remembered the previous comment.
“What amateur night? I didn’t know they had one.”
“First Thursday in every month. Five hundred dollar first prize, topless only, and the winner does a complete nude set at the end of the night. You’d win, hands down.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’d win easily. As to whether they have an amateur night—I have no idea. How would I know?”
She giggled then, knowing I was teasing her. “I would, you know.”
“Would what?”
“Enter it, if you wanted me to.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m not sharing you with anyone, visually or otherwise.”
“Good, because I don’t think Dianne would be up for it.”
“You never know.”
“Seeing as you won’t join me, you can at least top up my wine.”
“I will and, by the way, I had a call while I was out this morning.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Slipped my mind. Meant to tell you sooner, but you being out on the boat knocked it from my head. Mr. Bryant’s laptop is totally compromised. There’s no legal doubt that Sarah and Malcolm typed up all the offensive material after Frank’s death.”
“But…”
I leaned in, kissing her cheek again, then moved back out of range. “As far as The Gazette is concerned, that laptop is a poisoned chalice. The forensic report will be with the lawyers tomorrow and no doubt they’ll send a copy over to Midstate.”
“Thank you, honey. Will you let me find a way to thank you?” Her voice had dropped an octave. I knew exactly what she meant.
“Later, Sam, later. About time you got out of that tub.”
She held out her glass to me and I took it from her, watching in appreciative silence as she stood up in the water, allowing the suds and bubbles to flow down her body. I’d been right earlier—she did look like a goddess rising from the ocean.
“Come on, chef, I’m starving.”
“I was always told the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.”
“True enough.”
I moved to the door and escaped before she climbed out of the tub. I was certain that if I hadn’t she’d have caught me and we’d never have made it downstairs before the dinner burnt and the smoke alarms sounded.
* * * *
We enjoyed a wonderful dinner and, as the weather had turned over the last couple of hours, we reluctantly decided to abandon the idea of the hot tub.
I helped Sam clear away and we settled into the den. We were sitting on the large couch and she’d cuddled herself into my side. Since we’d been planning on jumping into the outside tub, Sam hadn’t got properly dressed after her bath. She’d simply pulled on her white bikini, and then worn her toweling robe over the top. Sitting there in the den, I was sure the tie on her robe hadn’t entirely come open of its own accord—she’d helped it along.
I kissed the top of her head and she felt me stir against her.
“Yes, honey?”
“Do you have more to tell me?”
She sighed. “Yes.” Her voice came out small.
“Do you feel up to it tonight or are we going to leave it ’til the morning?”
She craned her neck to look up at me. “Would you mind if I said leave it ’til the morning?”
“No, not really. It was hard for both of us this morning.”
“I know and I’m sorry about panicking you by taking the boat out.”
“It’s nothing. I should have texted you to say I was on the way back.”
She chuckled softly. “I guess one advantage of being here is the boat isn’t available to create a problem.”
“I can think of another advantage.”
“What?”
“That my wife won’t be strolling around the place naked all the time.”
“And you think that’s an advantage?”
“Depends.”
“On what?” She frowned up at me but we both knew we were playing.
“On whether I’m interested or not.”
She sat up, shrugged the robe off her shoulders and slid her arms from the sleeves. The bikini was one of her tan-through ones, very thin, and I could see every detail of her breasts, including the fact her nipples were hard.
“And are you?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re not naked, are you?”
Thirty seconds later she was.
Chapter Five – Barriers
After breakfast the following morning we both knew it was time to deal with another part of her history. After the love-making the previous night had confirmed our relationship with each other, we had to deal with the cathartic revelations and only she knew how long they’d go on for.
We sat down in the main sitting room—at least this side of the house got sun in the morning. Once more she took the chair opposite me, that way we could both see each other’s
reactions without getting a stiff neck.
* * * *
When I got home from Skinner’s Bar in the early hours of Saturday morning I was psychologically in a state. I’d messed up big time, and I’d let my own lust cloud my judgment. Sure, I’d enjoyed it sexually, but it had messed with my mind. Despite having showered in the flat above the bar, I dumped all my clothes in the laundry basket and showered again. Since I was physically exhausted, I fell asleep straight away—I guess that was a blessing really.
I woke about eleven, and the first thing I did was soak in the bath for an hour, trying to get rid of every possible contamination. If I could have scrubbed out the inside of my pussy with a brush, believe me I would have done it. I don’t know how many times I brushed my teeth and gargled with mouthwash, but it must have been four or five. I was obsessive. I was equally obsessive about looking for marks on my skin. If it had been possible to wear out a mirror I would have worn mine out. My breasts seemed reddened but no marks, and my ass had a bruise. My pussy seemed redder than usual but that was all.
There were a couple of text messages from you around lunchtime, but thankfully no missed calls or anything from the night before.
Hi Sam, what time are we meeting up? Is 3 OK for you? xxx Si
You there, Sam? Si
Luckily, that second message had only been ten minutes earlier and I could read you like a book by then. You always waited at least twenty minutes before sending a chase message. I had chance to reply.
Sorry, Si. I was in the bath, making myself look beautiful for you. Can we make it four, running late? Luv, Sam
The reply was almost instantaneous.
You’re always beautiful. Xxx If I’d known I’d have offered to scrub your back. 4’s fine. Si.
We kept up an intermittent text conversation on and off through the afternoon. Although we were going for something to eat before catching a movie, I had to have something to eat—I was starving. I guess I’d burnt off a lot of energy the night before.
I picked you up outside your flat and we sat in the car and necked for a few minutes before grabbing a burger and going to the cinema. We were early which was good, because we got our pick of the seats, managing to get the back row. I raised an eyebrow at you and giggled as you dragged me right into the far corner. It was like being back in high school. It was that good. No, I mean it, I loved it.
This time I’d decided to let you go further than before, and I’d dressed accordingly. The summer dress showed quite a bit of cleavage, and was short enough that I exposed my thigh above my stocking if I crossed my legs. More importantly, it buttoned all the way down the front. Undo a couple of buttons at the top and you had access to my bra-covered breasts. Three or so buttons at the bottom and you could reach the front of my underwear. Perfect for a trip to the cinema with a guy who was hot to trot.
I know that sounds calculating, but I really was that busy, making sure that in my mind I could make it up to you for something you knew nothing about. And still wouldn’t—I intended to take that memory to the grave, share it with nobody.
“You could have done. It wasn’t connected to Mr. Bryant.”
She shook her head. “No, honey. Once I knew I had to tell you, I decided on the trip home from The Gazette’s offices last week that you deserved to know the whole truth. If I told you some of it and you forgave me and other stuff came out—well, that would have been marriage over. So, no, I had to tell you, painful as it was for both of us, even if that risked the marriage.”
“Probably true too.”
“I know you too well, honey. Shall I continue?”
I nodded.
I still couldn’t tell you what film we went to see, or who was in it. No idea, no memory of it, none. By the time the opening credits rolled I had your mouth on mine, one arm around me, and your other hand on my knee. I’d crossed my legs so when you slid your hand up you’d find naked skin above the nylon. At that point I’d established my skirt hem as the barrier you didn’t cross. I had every intention of letting you breach that barrier, and several others, but you needed to do it, honey—I couldn’t just tell you what I wanted you to do.
I’m not sure if you sensed the change in me but your kissing become a lot harder and I was getting hot as your hand snaked over my shoulder and started to move down onto the swell of my breast. Your other hand slid higher too, finding the thicker nylon of the stocking top and then the garter strap. You traced that for a couple of minutes, then placed your whole hand on my naked thigh. You didn’t even notice I’d moved my skirt a couple of inches higher just to let you.
Before long, you broke the kiss and just looked into my eyes. I guess you were asking for permission to do more. After what had happened on the dance floor so many months before I could understand why. I’d created a monster, a frigid bitch who’d turn you to ice if you so much as touched something inappropriately. It was my fault. I now know you’d been far more confident with previous girlfriends, far more demanding, but I’d cut you off, emasculated you, and you didn’t want to run the risk of losing me again.
I knew I was in love with you, but in that moment I fell for the husband I knew I could have. If you’d popped the question right there and then, I’d have said ‘yes’. If you’d pulled me down onto the floor between the seats and ground your cock into my face I’d have taken it and blown you to heaven. My mind was a whirl, my heart was pounding as I just stared back into your eyes, illuminated only by the flickering image in front of us. There was nobody anywhere near us in the cinema. I guess the film was close to the end of its run. We had the row to ourselves, nobody to see the Junior City Librarian making out lewdly with her boyfriend in the back row of the cinema.
How corny was that? But it was true. I shifted in my seat, uncrossing my legs but making sure you could see I’d left them parted. You still seemed to hesitate, so I lifted my hands to the front of my dress and undid the top two buttons. You watched me do it, then again as I dropped them to my lap and undid the three down there. I knew what access that gave, and it was dark. Any residual reddening of my skin wouldn’t show. I put my arms around the back of your neck and kissed you hard, taking the lead and, by my actions, offering myself to you. You’d have had to have been a moron not to know what I was doing. As a newly minted doctoral candidate, there was no way you could be classed as a moron.
I expected you to dive right in, grab what I’d put on offer, but you were perhaps too wise for me, or maybe too beaten down by my ice-queen act. As a result, you took it slowly. If anything, that increased my feelings for you. The sensitivity you displayed in the cinema as you slid your hand onto my bra while the other one slid up my thigh toward my panties almost made me cum.
I hated Mr. Bryant at that moment, hated him with a fierce passion, hated him for taking my innocence, and hated him for imposing his fucking twisted classification system on me—a system that had made me pretend to be something I wasn’t. I was determined you’d never see the ice-queen again. Ever.
In fact, sitting there in the dark of the cinema, with you caressing my nipple and my pussy through my underwear, I was quite prepared to tell him where to shove his job. Obviously, reason prevailed in the cold light of day, but at that moment there was only one thing I wanted, one man I wanted—you.
“I noticed how wet you were.”
“You could hardly fail to. By the time your fingers were pressing against me I was ready to cum. All you had to do was push my panties to one side and touch my naked slit and I would have. But you didn’t.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “I didn’t dare. I was so happy to get that far, to feel that little button of a nipple of yours come alive under my hand, to feel your wetness, knowing you wanted me.”
“I’m sorry I’d brow-beaten you that far down.”
“It’s okay. I felt I was making progress, and I didn’t want to push it any further.”
You might not have wanted to push it further—in fact, you backed off, at least between my legs. As a re
sult, you kept me on the edge of an orgasm for the entire length of the film. By the time the end credits rolled I think you’d got almost the entire dress unbuttoned, my bra pulled down and my breasts on view, except when they were covered by your hand. I do know I had a wet spot the size of a dinner plate on the back of my skirt as I walked out of the cinema. I guess you realized why I spent ten minutes in the powder room before rejoining you.
I had a real bounce to my step and I could see you had a serious boner too. I’d been good—I hadn’t touched it at all. It was still light so I suggested we both took the chance to calm down by taking a stroll through the park. In the end, though, I felt so uncomfortable with my wet underwear as darkness fell, we walked back to my car and we made out for a bit just sitting in the front seats.
I remember you said you had Wednesday night off for a change so we made plans for you to meet me from work, and then you let me drive you home. We made out again in front of your building. You got my dress undone at the top and I let you touch and play with my breasts. I kept my legs together, though, preventing you from playing down there. If I hadn’t I’d have exploded with the pent-up lust. Eventually, we said goodnight and, being a gentleman, you even helped me adjust my clothing before you got out of the car.
I loved you more in that moment than anything. I drove home in a daze, a total fog. I’m sure I didn’t even reach my bedroom before I had my hand down my panties and my fingers in my pussy, and I was screaming your name as I came.
I don’t know how many times I masturbated that night, but it was several. I had to change the bedding at two o’clock in the morning, just to find a safe, dry spot to sleep.
Why we didn’t meet up on the Sunday I don’t know. You weren’t studying any more, let alone editing your now finished dissertation, and I had nothing to do either. But we didn’t meet up. We spoke on the phone several times, but neither of us plucked up the courage to suggest we meet. It still doesn’t make sense. I’d have given myself to you that day without a care about what you might have thought.