by A. S Peavey
She only looked back as she grabbed the notebook. She could still see half of the other woman. She was on all fours now facing away from the hallway and Omar, her breasts swaying back and forth. Kelsey’s treacherous hand headed back to the crotch of her pants.
Kelsey forced herself to turn around and leave.
Kelsey drove on instinct for half an hour, checking her phone periodically in case anyone called or texted. Eventually, her eyes took in the scenery, and she realized where she was.
There was a park not far away, not the kind of park that parents brought their little kids to play in, rather the kind where you could walk a hundred yards, and soon forget that you were in the middle of a city.
Most importantly, few people came here in the middle of a weekday. Only one car was in the parking lot. Kelsey had no trouble parking where a pair of trees mostly blocked the view, even if someone had been in the cab of the other vehicle.
Not that she had planned to do anything embarrassing. She straightened her clothes up first. She still really needed to change, even, or especially, before Omar saw her. She’d give her husband and his lover another hour to clear out, and then head back home.
Kelsey figured she could use the rest of the time, sitting in her car in a nearly deserted park, to get her head back in order. She wanted her rational mind to take back control. She wanted to force herself to come to the rational conclusion—that her husband was a lying, cheating, son of a bitch. She wanted to force herself to take the rational action—to dump him out on the street.
But her head wouldn’t cooperate. Kelsey, unbuttoned her pants and lifted her hips off the seat intending to pull them further up. Instead, she forced them and her underwear down, just a smidge (she wouldn’t expose herself here, even if no one she could see) and started to play with her clit. Her mind projected images on the windshield, turning the glass into a movie screen, showing replays of what she’d seen or heard.
Her imagination grew even nastier as she replayed the sex she imagined Omar had with his lover in the bedroom. And her imagination hadn’t been tame the first time.
Then her mind filled out the second fuck. No longer was her view of the scene limited by what wasn’t hidden behind the wall. She added her husband in, seeing what he did to produce the reactions Kelsey had caught from his mistress. Her mental camera angle circled them as they fucked.
Sometimes a close-up on her moaning face. Sometimes a close-up on his grinning one.
Kelsey would have thought that she could control herself during this imaginary replay, knowing the two lovers were far away. But no. At least this time she was aware of the motions of her hands. She was in control as she played with her clit.
Though, when she looked up after her orgasm, Kelsey realized she’d missed the other vehicle leaving. The driver had come and gone while she was masturbating. Kelsey wasn’t embarrassed. The thought of the other driver seeing, maybe even pausing to watch, pleased her. Her pussy reacted—though not enough to entice Kelsey into yet another round.
Kelsey picked up her phone. She checked the time. As best she could tell, it had been just more than an hour since her previous orgasm.
Well. There’d be plenty more opportunities. She could no longer tell herself that this was it, she’d walk the straight and narrow from now on, she would return to being a good girl.
The phone still held no messages from her husband—he hadn’t noticed her, or anything she’d left behind—or from her doctor. She dialed the doctor’s office and made a new appointment.
Kelsey wasn’t sure if she still wanted a kid. But she did want to know if there was any chance she’d get pregnant when she fucked her husband. Her imagination, her libido, drew herself back to him.
And, of course, Kelsey needed to know if anyone else could make her pregnant.
Getting Even
In the past, when Kelsey received a call from her husband, informing her that he and a few colleagues were going out, she would be annoyed. She carefully kept that annoyance out of her voice. She didn’t want him to realize she was upset and back out. Omar had every right to hang out with his friends. She was only unhappy because she’d made plans of one sort or another in her head before she knew if Omar would be available. Lately, that led to double trouble because she’d started planning sex during her most fertile days of the month. Not that she couldn’t get pregnant just as easily fucking him after he got drunk with friends as when they made love after a romantic meal. But in her head, she was already living her preferred option before Omar called.
But tonight Kelsey was happy to receive the call. She was happy to have a night without Omar.
Kelsey still had no clue how to discuss Omar’s affair with him, but she knew she couldn’t kick him out over his infidelity. Maybe she even wanted him to continue sleeping around—with some modifications to suit her desires. After all, when she caught him, she had fucked herself silly, even if she wasn’t ready to reveal that she knew about the affair.
But she wasn’t ready to have that conversation. She needed to be able to take control. Which meant, Kelsey had decided, that she needed to have fucked another guy, to have had her own wild and passionate infidelity.
Kelsey had made plans for that evening—plans to play detective. She wanted to peek under Omar’s skin, to find out what he was thinking. She would drop some vague hints and watch his reaction. She wanted some preview of how Omar would react when Kelsey revealed what she knew.
But Kelsey wasn’t enthused by those plans.
So when she got the call, Kelsey formulated other plans. She checked the Internet for a classy wine bar—not one she’d visited before. Marco’s was on the other side of the city from both her work and her home, and nowhere near any of her acquaintances. Her plans would fall apart if she went anywhere she could be recognized.
While Kelsey drove, she transitioned from her work outfit to something more attractive. She didn’t have another outfit to change into. She should have planned in case the opportunity presented itself. But until today, the idea of her own affair had been just that. An idea.
Kelsey made minor adjustments to how her clothes hung off her. She let her hair down, trying to get it to flow around her shoulders. Her work would be messed up by the time she stepped out of the car, but she would know how to put her hair back together.
And she opened a button on her blouse. She thought that would be enough. This shirt already showed a considerable neckline. But when she got to a stoplight and checked herself out, she decided it wasn’t enough. Since marrying Omar, Kelsey had become much primmer, much more proper. Though part of that had been unconscious—Kelsey wanted to look like a married woman. It had been time to grow up.
Kelsey just hadn’t realized how much she’d made herself look more grown up.
Kelsey opened another button. When she stopped at the next light, she was glad to see a little cleavage. And more would be visible when she leaned forward. But no one would have to work hard to check out the curves between the tops of her breasts.
Kelsey looked for more to alter. But she couldn’t spot anything else she could improve on. But the closer she approached the bar, the more she doubted her look. Her clothes were a limiting factor. Yes, she’d done all she could with them, but that wouldn’t be enough. Her cleavage would be the only distracting, eye-attracting, part of her look.
Kelsey tried undoing a third button. But at the next light the mirror told her that was too much. She wasn’t just showing cleavage anymore; she was showing off her bra. The mirror offered a deceptive angle—less would be visible from straight on, when she was sitting up straight—but it wasn’t the worst angle.
Kelsey wasn’t sure what man had last seen the cup of her bra—aside from her husband, of course. It might have been an old boyfriend, but Kelsey had been more daring, more adventurous in college. But that was a long time ago.
Kelsey rebuttoned that third button.
She didn’t want to look desperate. Though she wasn’t sure wha
t desperate looked like. It probably looked different in a dive bar than in a wine bar. In a dive bar showing a little bra might have been standard—unexciting. But she was going to a wine bar, where bra would almost certainly be too much.
Kelsey parked the car and took a deep breath. She looked herself over again, wondering if she’d missed any tricks to make herself look better.
There was one trick, but it had nothing to do with her clothes. The most important trick for catching the eye was to wear an enticing look on her face.
After an hour sitting at the bar, slowly sipping at her wine, Kelsey wondered if she’d forgotten how to put an enticing look on her face.
There were plenty of men in the bar. Plenty of them met Kelsey’s eyes, flirting from a distance. But none visited her table. A few got up, looked like they might come over after stopping at the bar, but they all returned to their original table. Nonetheless, there must be willing men, even if none of them were actively seeking a woman. Clearly, they just weren’t interested in her.
Kelsey wished she could tell which men were on the prowl and which were out for a tamer good time.
She’d never tried to divide men into those two camps, even when she was younger, before she married. Even though she was almost certain she’d been picked up by men who visited looking only for a one-night stand.
The memory surprised Kelsey because she also remembered that she never had qualms about those men or the one-night stands. Her past had for so long been filtered through the strictures she’d built for herself as a married woman. If she remembered her earlier sexual exploits at all, it was to disapprove of youthful indiscretions, activities that—clearly—she had been a fool to involve herself in. Activities she would have to protect her children from.
She hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge the truth for years. The few injuries she experienced were nothing next to the good times she had. A few assholes had convinced her to come back to their apartments but never returned the favors of orgasms she gave them. There were assholes who, to make themselves feel better, tried to degrade her when their night of passion was over.
But even when the man wouldn’t cooperate, she could usually make her own fun. And those assholes represented a fraction of the men she’d slept with. Most had been decent to her, giving her the night she wanted—she even stumbled onto one long term boyfriend that way.
That hadn’t been Omar. Omar came along later, after college, when Kelsey was willing to settle down, if not actively looking for a tame life. Omar could have been just another boyfriend that she fucked until she grew bored—until Omar showed her that relationships had plenty of other benefits, aside from regular fucks. Some of those other features improved sex.
Growing up put those sexual escapades into a new perspective, if not an impartial perspective. But she still couldn’t regret her past.
She couldn’t regret her time with Omar either—not even now—even if it left her unprepared to find a stranger to fuck her.
Kelsey wondered whether she should have left that third button undone. But it was too late to change now. That would have smacked of obvious desperation.
Kelsey took another sip of her wine and looked around. She wondered if she needed to take more direct action, if she should choose a likely man to flirt with from across the room.
Her phone rang first. She should have set it to silent. It was Omar calling.
“Hello?” Kelsey said.
“Hey, honey.”
“How’s your happy hour?”
“Good. Good. I just realized I forgot to ask this afternoon. Have you heard back? From the clinic, I mean. How are our chances?”
Kelsey took a deep breath. She wished she could put the subterfuge aside so she wouldn’t have to lie to Omar. She’d been a fool the first time he asked; she might have told him that a last-minute crisis at work had prevented her from making the appointment. Or she could have said that the doctor wanted to do follow-up tests. Anything would have been a better lie than telling him that the appointment had come off without a problem.
Unfortunately, her head hadn’t been in the right place to produce the best lie. That afternoon’s events had still distracted her when he asked. And she was horny. Kelsey returned home twenty minutes before Omar, enough time to change. When he came in the door, her pussy was dripping wet. She wasn’t thinking about lies, just about getting him in bed.
After she answered his question, they’d made love—though it seemed dull by comparison to what she’d overheard and half seen, between Omar and his mistress.
“I…it’ll take awhile to get test results.”
“Mine were back quick.”
“Yeah, but we’re not the same sex, remember. I guess things are more complicated, or something.”
And why the hell did he insist on bothering Kelsey about this, as if he was really focused on their relationship, as if he didn’t have a piece of ass on the side.
To be frank, Kelsey hadn’t bothered to think up a good excuse for missing the appointment because she hadn’t expected Omar to ask. At the time it seemed funny that Omar would ask about the appointment as if nothing had happened. Of course, as far as he thought Kelsey knew, nothing had happened. She wasn’t supposed to know that Omar was sleeping around.
And, try as she might, Kelsey still couldn’t detect any hint of irony in his questions. She saw none of the usual signs that he was lying. Omar had tells that usually revealed even the little white lies. She had never realized that he could be such a good actor.
Normally, Omar only fooled Kelsey when she wasn’t suspicious. Maybe Omar was better telling the big lies. Maybe he’d been living this one so long that he’d taken control of his double life.
Though she had trouble believing that the affair had been going on that long. Given their passion, she might have believed that had been their first tryst, though she would have guessed they had a handful—no more—under their belts.
“Look, I would have told you if I’d heard something.”
“Yeah. I guess so. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s not…it’s not a bother.” Kelsey took a deep breath. “Why are you calling now, though? Shouldn’t you be enjoying those drinks?”
“I…well, I probably let out a few too many loose words when we were first trying to get pregnant, and now a couple of my colleagues are pestering me.”
“And you’re going to tell them the results of my tests?” Kelsey tried to sound amused. Maybe she succeeded. Normally she didn’t have to try. She liked his hesitant gossiping—so long as he didn’t get too loose with his words.
“No. of course not. I just want to know that there’s a reason to be hopeful.”
“But you’d tell them if we couldn’t conceive.”
“Well, no. Just hints. To quiet them.”
“Okay. Whatever, silly. Later.”
“Later.”
She smiled for a minute after hanging up. Whatever his faults, and whatever his sins, something about Omar just demanded her sympathy. And some part of Kelsey was addicted to giving Omar her sympathy, where many of her friends would have just grown annoyed.
After a minute that smile faded, to replaced by her earlier, more alluring, one, as she looked around the bar, seeking again to attract attention.
Kelsey looked down at her glass. She’d been nursing it for more than an hour. Maybe she should just give up and go home when she finished.
Though if she decided to do that, she might just be tempted to finish the glass in one gulp. She wasn’t sure if she would have any luck tonight, but she wanted to wait the half hour it would take to finish her glass at the current rate.
Maybe she’d just started too early. People probably wanted to have fun going out before they had fun staying in. But Kelsey had hurried to this bar so she could have her fun and still get home before bedtime.
Kelsey was staring down at her glass when a man finally approached.
“May I take this seat?”
Kelsey l
ooked up and smiled. He was handsome, maybe not ruggedly handsome, maybe not movie star handsome, but an impartial observer would have rated him higher than Omar, no question. Even if Kelsey couldn’t be that impartial observer around Omar, this guy was handsome enough for her. And looks were hardly important next to the way he met her eyes, and the half smile he wore.
Kelsey had met his eyes twice before, once when she first arrived. He’d seemed interested enough then, but she had assumed that his interest had faded in favor of some preferable woman. The second time their eyes might have just been an accident. He was scanning the room, apparently looking for something or someone else.
He was younger than Kelsey, only by a few years, but young enough that she could tell. And he was fitter than Omar—even Kelsey’s love for her husband couldn’t hide that.
“Uh…yes…please.”
“Josh,” he said.
“Kelsey.”
“How are you doing?”
“Well…I…” Kelsey didn’t know what to say now. She’d finally gotten a man’s attention, and she didn’t want to lose it. She knew she couldn’t turn the topic to sex immediately; she knew there was a dance that had to be followed—one she’d probably participated in unwittingly back when she was in college. She just needed to slowly, covertly, express her interest.
She just had to flirt. Kelsey hadn’t forgotten how to do that.
She took a deep breath. “I’m good. Thank you. How are you?”
The conversation went on strong for five minutes, full of inconsequential little things, little factoids of their lives that let them smile at each other and send other flirtatious signals. Kelsey batted her eyelashes once or twice, but that seemed artificial. She leaned forward to show interest, and in doing so gave Josh more and more of an eyeful of her cleavage.
“I’m going to get myself more wine. Do you want another glass?”