Somebody Else's Husband

by Patti Doss

  When she was done, I told her to get up. I had her straddle me. She rode me so good that I thought we were going to break the toilet.

  Then we moved to the floor. I put her on her stomach and took her from behind. I sank into her so hard, like I was punishing her for betraying her friend and seducing me. But that didn’t stop her. She was giving just as hard as she was taking.

  I flipped her over, kissed her breasts and eased my mouth towards her wetness while inserting two fingers inside her. She moaned and begged for me to stop, but I wouldn’t - I couldn’t. I don’t know why but I just wanted to give her both, pain and pleasure.

  Just before she was about to explode, I filled her with my hardness again. She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I drilled her like I was drilling for oil. She was still moaning and getting louder, so I put my hand over her mouth to keep her quiet. In response, she began sucking my fingers.

  My whole body started to tingle as I announced to the world that I was cumming. “I’m about to cum… Argh! I’m cumming!”

  There was no basking in the afterglow. I didn’t know what to say or do afterwards, so I just got up, put back on my pants and went into the living room. She stayed in the bathroom and got cleaned up. She came back out, looking half as good as she did when she entered. I still couldn’t think because now it was settling in what we just did.

  She looked at me and wanted to say something, but she couldn’t talk either.

  I broke the silence. “You have to go.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she walked to the door. She turned around and said, “I’m so sorry, Mike. I’m so sorry. Please don’t tell Tam. Please?”

  “I won’t,” I said solemnly, closing the door behind her.

  I drew a deep breath, blowing air through my lips. If only I had fought harder against her seduction then I wouldn’t even be in this situation right now!

  That was three months ago. We’d hooked up many times since then, but it was always just sex; no emotions involved whatsoever, at least not on my end. Now she was telling me that she was falling in love. That was the last straw. It was perfect until her feelings got involved. Rachel was a freak, but she was not worth losing my family over. Now she was getting careless, calling and texting me all the time, so it was definitely time to let it go for good.

  I had to get Rachel out of my life, and I had to do it now.

  “Rachel, we have to talk. Meet me today for lunch at the spot,” I said in a strong voice so that she would know this was serious.

  Hearing the urgency in my voice, she replied, “Is something wrong? I can’t meet you for lunch. I’m supposed to meet Tam and the girls for lunch. Can this wait?”

  I replied, “I’m sorry, but no this cannot wait. So I expect you to be there at twelve. It won’t take long. You can meet up with the girls after we’re done.”

  “Okay, Mike. I’ll see you at twelve. I love you.”

  I hung up the phone. I didn’t need to hear that. I didn’t want to hear that. How could she be in love with her best friend’s husband? Damn, I created a mess and now I had to fix it.

  * * * *

  It was twelve noon and Rachel still hadn’t arrived yet.

  I was getting annoyed. I started thinking, she better show up because I am getting so tired of these little games she’s trying to play.

  She knew from the beginning this was a NSA type thing- No Strings Attached. Now she wants to get her feelings involved and shit. I don’t even know why the hell I kept this thing going for over three months.

  Five minutes later, Rachel finally shows up. She gets out of her car, smiling as she walks over to me.

  “Hey baby,” she says while attempting to hug me. I stepped back and replied, “Don’t call me that. After that little stunt you pulled this morning, my wife is starting to get suspicious. Are you purposely trying to ruin my marriage?”

  I told her to get in the car. I walked over to the driver side and got in.

  Rachel replied, “No, I’m not. I’m so sorry, but I really wanted to see you this morning, baby. I can’t help how I feel about you.”

  I wasn’t moved. “Rachel, you knew from the beginning that this was only sex, nothing more. And remember you seduced me, I didn’t seduce you.”

  She looked so dejected. Good.

  “I don’t even know why or how you’re falling in love with me. I never take you anywhere, except a hotel room. I never buy you anything, not even a drink. All I do is fuck you real good and leave you.”

  Rachel’s eyes filled with tears, but I steadied myself so as not to fall for them. I’m not really that cruel and heartless, but in this case I had to be. I didn’t want to hurt Rachel, but I had to get my point across. It was either hurt her or allow her to hurt me and my family. The latter definitely was not an option.

  By speaking to her so rudely and coldly, I hoped she would never want to talk to me or speak to me ever again. In case this doesn’t work out as I plan, I’m changing my cell number and email, and whatever else I have to do to put an end to this thing for good.

  Rachel opened her mouth to talk, but I cut her off. I didn’t want to hear anything she had to say.

  I told her, “Rachel, it’s over. We are done. Don’t call me, text me, IM me, email, FB, tweet, Instagram, DM, write me or anything! All contact with me ends now. Don’t call my job or show up there.” I dug into her, taking it a step further. “Don’t call my house or even come by. If Tammie invites you over, you better lie and say you are busy or persuade her to come over to your house. I am dead to you, at least that’s how you should think of me, because I promise, if you do anything – and I mean anything - to try to mess up my marriage, I will personally fuck you up and I mean that!”

  Her face crumbled even further, but I wasn’t done yet. “In case you feel the urge to tell Tammie, I advise you to think before you act. Yes, she would probably divorce me but what do you think she would do to you? Her best friend since forever….friends whose children are like sisters and brothers…someone who she loves and trusts and treats like a sister….What do you think she would do to you?”

  More tears fell from her eyes.

  “Answer the damn question!” I shouted.

  “I don’t know,” she sobbed.

  “Oh, I think you know. You just don’t want to know. So you better think about that every time you feel like you want to confess or do something stupid. And in case that does not persuade you to keep your mouth closed, don’t forget I still have all those special pictures that I’m sure you don’t want anyone to see.”

  She gasped, “You wouldn’t!”

  I replied, “Oh, yes I would. Give me a reason to. I promise I will mess up your whole life. Get the brown envelope off the back seat and look inside.”

  Rachel grabs the envelope and looks inside. She pulls out the pictures. She begins looking through the pictures. As she viewed each picture, more tears fell from her eyes.

  She continued looking at the pictures and crying harder. “Please don’t, Mike. Please don’t,” she whimpered. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

  I looked at her, snatching the pictures out of her hand. “There’s more where this came from,” I threatened. “So, if you fuck me over, I will return the favor. I will post them on every social network I can think about. I’ll even make a video out of the pictures and post it on YouTube. Hell, I’ll post them around the neighborhood where you live and work if I have to. Just try me if you think I’m playing. You were the biggest mistake of my life. A mistake I won’t ever make again. Now clean yourself up, get out of my car, and go meet your friends and never contact me or even look at me again!”

  I handed her some paper towels, which she snatched from my hand. She didn’t move at first. She just looked at me and then she screamed, “Mike, why are you doing this to me?”

  I replied, “You did this to yourself when you seduced your best friend’s husband. You knew nothing good could come from this. Now get the FUCK out of my car NOW!”
<
br />   She cried harder as she wiped her face with the paper towels, opened the door, got out and slammed my door. I cranked up my car and drove off. I left her standing there with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  I am not that mean, but I really needed Rachel to hate me. I think I accomplished that. Part of me felt sorry for Rachel and part of me didn’t. Regardless, I did what I came to do.

  CHAPTER 3

  TAMMIE

  Today is Tuesday, the day of my weekly lunch date with my girls. Rachel texted Sharon and said she will be a little late. Persia and Sharon were on their way, and I was just leaving the office. We’ve all been friends since forever, even though our personalities are as different as night and day. Rachel is the wild and outgoing friend. Sharon is the prissy southern belle. Persia is the assertive and authoritarian friend. I am considered the conservative and lucid one. Sometimes, I wonder how in the world we remain friends.

  Even though our personalities are very different, we are always there for each other.

  Persia, Rachel, and I grew up together. We all grew up in a small town called Carrollton, Alabama, a small little town with the urban legend of the face in the window. Some say it is the face of a black man that was lynched on the courthouse lawn for dating a white woman, even though historians dispute that theory. Sharon was also from Carrollton, but her family moved when she was little, and she did not return until high school. We became friends in high school, and we have been inseparable ever since. Now we all live in Georgia. I live in Powder Springs. Rachel lives in Austell. Persia lives in Marietta, and Sharon lives in Kennesaw.

  Rachel is a retail store manager. She loves fashion. Although her style is a little eccentric for me, she is a remarkable fashionista.

  Rachel is single with three boys: Raheem, who is fourteen, Terrell, who is twelve, and Marquis, who is ten. Sharon is a legal assistant for a big firm. She is a modern-day, Coretta Scott King. She works with firms and other organizations to help provide reasonably priced legal services for the people that need it and cannot afford it. She’s always been the type to look out for the under-privileged, which is one of the things I really admire about her. Sharon is divorced and has three kids: two girls, Destinee, who is twelve, Diamond, who is ten, and a boy, Dashawn, who is fifteen. Persia is a high-school counselor and a program coordinator at a local center for disabled, elderly people. Persia is married to Derek, a truck driver. She has two kids: Aaliyah, who is seven and Derek, Jr. who is ten. She is also an Army veteran that served two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, which I think triggered several personality and emotional problems.

  Persia can be the sweetest, most loving person you would ever want to meet but you can say the wrong thing and G.I. Jane comes alive. It’s nothing major as to the point where she has to be institutionalized, but things can get intense when she is in Army mode. War has that effect on people. After living in a war zone, you get tired of hearing about death and fighting all the time. That senseless, unjustified Iraq war left a lot of veterans with emotional and psychological problems. Nevertheless, out of the three, Persia is my closest friend. We knew each other way before Sharon and Rachel because we lived directly across the street from each other.

  Anyway, today we are meeting for lunch at La Parrilla Mexican Restaurant in Powder Springs, GA. La Parrilla, which means “the grill” in Spanish, is a famous authentic Mexican restaurant that is known for their succulent enchiladas and their wonderful margaritas.

  By the time I arrived at the restaurant, Persia and Sharon was already there giggling at something.

  I walked up to the table and jokingly said, “Better not be laughing at me.”

  Persia replied, “Nobody is laughing at you. Hell, you are not even on our minds.” Then she started laughing.

  We all laughed.

  Persia got up and hugged me. Then so did Sharon. I’ve never been much of a hugger, except with my kids and hubby. The girls always say that I’m too serious and emotionless. I grew up in a household where hugging, kissing, crying, and saying I love you were considered taboo. For the longest time, that’s the way I was, until I had my first child. Then I couldn’t hug, kiss, or say those three little words enough. I still detest crying though. It’s almost like a pet peeve. If I could help it, I would never cry, but life does not work that way. Yes, I cry but when I do, nobody normally knows.

  We sat down and decided to ordered drinks and appetizers until Rachel joins us. The waitress came over to take our orders. She was a young Hispanic girl with dark brown hair and a little too much makeup. I think she would have been beautiful without the makeup because the makeup made her look much older than she really was. Her name tag read Rosalind. She could not have been more than twenty-one years old.

  “Are you guys ready to order?”

  “Sure,” replied Sharon.

  “We would like to order the La Parrilla Dip, Golden Coconut Shrimp, La Parrilla chicken fingers and the Queso Fundido con Chorizo for appetizers and three apple margaritas and a glass of hot water from the coffee maker, not the fountain.”

  Rosalind looked puzzled.

  Persia and I just smiled.

  No matter what restaurant we went to, we would always get that same look whenever Sharon asked for a glass of hot water. We always joke with Sharon that the waitress was going to think that she brought her own tea bags.

  Sharon asked, “Do you understand the order?”

  The waitress replied, “Yes, you ordered the La Parrilla Dip, Golden Coconut Shrimp, La Parrilla chicken fingers and the Queso Fundido con Chorizo for appetizers and three apple margaritas.”

  “And a glass of hot water from the coffee maker, not the fountain,” repeated Sharon. “And a glass of hot water from the coffee maker?” asked the waitress.

  “That’s correct,” said Sharon.

  Rosalind didn’t leave right away. Instead, she said, “Would you mind if I asked you why you want just a glass of hot water?”

  Sharon’s annoyed expression surfaced. She blew air through her lips, like she always did when asked that very same question. Nevertheless, she answered Rosalind’s question. “I want a glass of hot water so that I can place our silverware inside of it because restaurant dishwashers do not clean them well enough,” she responded snappily. “You understand?”

  “Si, Senorita, yo entiendo… I mean, yes, Miss, I understand.”

  Rosalind’s face reddened at Sharon’s scrappy demeanor, but she scurried to bring out the hot water just the same. Our food and drinks arrived ten minutes later, but Rachel didn’t show up until two margaritas later.

  Rachel walked in wearing a white V-neck shirt underneath a black suede mini-vest. She’d paired them with denim skinny jeans and black suede knee-high boots that matched her vest. She had on a black and silver necklace with silver hoop earrings with faux onyx accents and a matching silver bangle with faux onyx stones perfectly accessorized her look. She topped everything off with an oversized, black Michael Kors handbag.

  She also had on big square sunglasses that she did not remove as she sat down and quietly greeted us. “Hey guys.”

  We returned our greetings, and each of us took a good, long look at her. Something was off – very, very off – with homegirl. Rachel was normally the loudest and happiest one during our weekly lunch meetings, but today she was strangely dull and gloomy. She looked as if she lost her best friend.

  Sharon asked Rachel, “What’s wrong with you, girl?”

  Rachel replied, “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

  “Something must be wrong. You’re not talking and all cheery like you always are.”

  Rachel didn’t reply so Sharon reached over and grabbed her sunglasses off her face. Rachel tried to stop her but she was too late. Sharon had already snatched her sunglasses, and we gasped at her bloodshot eyes. Something was definitely wrong. Persia and I looked at each other and back at Sharon and Rachel, but we didn’t say anything. Rachel’s eyes were so red and a little swollen as if she had been crying … and cryin
g hard.

  Rachel grabbed a napkin off the table and wiped her eyes. As she wiped her eyes and moved her hair behind her right ear, I saw that one of her earrings was missing.

  Sharon asked Rachel again, “What is wrong with you, Rachel? Why are you crying?”

  Rachel didn’t reply, but the tears started flowing freely. I told Sharon to take Rachel outside or to the restroom so that they could talk, and Rachel could get herself together because people at nearby tables were starting to stare. Sharon gave Rachel back her shades, and they went outside. About ten minutes later, Sharon came back in and said that Rachel was going home because she didn’t feel good. We said okay and that we would all go over after we were done with lunch.

  After ordering our food and iced tea, Persia asked Sharon, “Did Rachel say what was wrong with her?”

  Sharon slightly sighed, “That married guy that Rachel was seeing just broke things off. She was banking on his leaving his wife for her, but I guess not. She’s so heartbroken.”

  We both replied, “Ohhhhh.”

  We all knew that Rachel was dating a married man because she kept him hidden. She never talked about him or anything. She would just occasionally disappear on us. We’d never even met the guy. That’s what she usually did when she was playing the side bitch role. We learned to never ask her anything about her business because if she wanted us to know, she would tell us. Plus, this was not the first time she had been dating a married man, so we knew the signs. We ate in silence. After we finished eating and paid the bill, we left for Rachel’s house.

  * * *

  Rachel answered the door, and we could tell she had been crying again. We all sat down in the living room. At first nobody said anything.