Uncovering Helena

by Kamilla Murphy

  Uncovering Helena

  Kamilla Murphy

  Copyright 2014

  All Rights Reserved

  The New Year’s Eve party was at Ginnie and Lionel Wade’s house last year, and that’s when I first saw it. My name’s Paul and I’ve been married to Helena for ten years now. My wife was a gymnast in high school and college, and with her baby face and four-foot-ten height people think she’s younger than she is. She may be short, but ‘petite’ doesn’t fit her body. In her thirties Helena is a curvy woman with D-cup breasts and muscular thighs and glutes left over from her gymnastics days. She knows how to use that body too. I was accustomed to seeing younger men hit on my wife, not realizing her age and that she was married. I didn’t get pissed off. She’d gently let them down with the truth, and I felt lucky to be married to her.

  One of her trademark signals was letting her hair down. Helena has long, brunette hair and doesn’t like it down, usually wearing it in a ponytail or tied up in a bun. She says she looks more professional that way. However, when she wears it down she looks amazingly foxy, like a Rubenesque Lolita. When she wears it down she’s telling me what she wants. When she wears it down, those nights in bed are the best.

  Still an hour away from midnight, what I saw was our host’s hand up my wife’s dress while they sat on a sofa, and she not appearing to mind.

  Did I tell you her hair was down?

  I didn’t have to guess what that hand was doing since Helena’s mouth was open and some of her thick hair was stuck to her sweaty face. How could everyone else not see what was going on?

  Why I didn’t charge right over there and put a stop to the mischief surprised me. Along with anger there was something else—curiosity, arousal? I stood there with a drink in my hand and watched until Lionel saw me, and like the guilty party he was he pulled his hand away quickly and tried to look nonchalant. However, I saw his glistening wet fingers. Now that Helena knew I’d seen them she worked at straightening out her dress as well as her mussed hair. The only decision I had to make at that moment was whether to ignore them or confront them. My reaction was a blend of both. I went looking for Ginnie, Lionel’s wife.

  As the party’s hostess, she was chatting with several neighborhood women as I approached. Ginnie Wade was at least ten to fifteen years older than us and not attractive as far as I was concerned. In fact she was the direct opposite of my wife. Where Helena was cute, petite and yet extremely curvy, Ginnie’s face was rather plain, with perhaps a too-prominent, square jaw for my taste, with words such as ‘butch’ and ‘big-boned’ easily coming to mind. Maybe my perception was biased, transferring my sudden dislike for Lionel onto his wife. I asked to speak with her and maneuvered her away from the group.

  She said, “What’s wrong, Paul? You look flushed. Food and drinks okay?”

  “Those are fine. It’s your husband who isn’t fine. I just saw him feeling up my wife in the other room and I don’t like it.”

  “Did you tell either one of them you didn’t like it?”

  “No. I didn’t want to make a scene.”

  “Let me tell you something, Paul. It’s no secret to me that my husband has the sex drive of horny bull. He’ll chase any woman who gives a signal that she wishes to be chased. I think you should talk to Helena before doing or saying anything stupid.”

  “You know he cheats and you let him?” I naively asked.

  Ginnie laughed. “I don’t ‘let’ him do anything. He’s a grown man who makes his own decisions. I make mine too. We both have our needs and we take care of them. Maybe you should pay more attention to your wife’s needs instead of my husband’s.”

  As I walked away and went in search of Helena I thought about what Ginnie had said. I knew I was an old-fashioned kind of guy. I didn’t think about my needs except within the boundaries of my marriage. Loving Helena took care of them, but was I meeting my wife’s needs? Then I began thinking about the unthinkable. If Ginnie was so cavalier in condoning Lionel’s fooling around, maybe it was because I was the only one who didn’t know he was doing his fooling around with Helena.

  She met me as I entered the Wade’s expansive living room. Many of our friends were here, dressed elegantly for the holiday and conversing in small groups, yet all I saw was Helena. Her cocktail dress was mostly white with some splashes of navy blue as contrast. For the gazillionth time I pondered how amazing she looked. The dress accentuated her breasts without exposing them; the high hemline accentuating her magnificently chiseled legs and the promise of what it was to lie between them.

  Before I could say anything, she said “I’m sorry honey. I guess I’ve had a few too many drinks and lost my sense of decency there for a moment. Lionel was being nice and I didn’t realize what he was doing until he, you know, touched me…”

  “Why didn’t you stop him?”

  “Like I said, maybe I’ve had too much to drink and lost my concentration of who was sitting next to me on the sofa, and it did feel good. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you tonight, okay?”

  “Are you having an affair with him?” I blurted out.

  I saw the hurt look in her eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Seeing a man fingering my wife in public makes it difficult to know what to believe.” I hadn’t realized my voice was raised until a few folks around us stopped and stared. Helena took me by the arm and suggested we go home right after toasting the New Year.

  Later in bed neither one of us was in the mood so there wasn’t any making-it-up-to-me that night.

  ***

  Turning the calendar, our lovemaking returned to what I thought of as normal. I still had difficulty feeling uplifted when Helena seemed to be extra aroused and had multiple orgasms. Was she fantasizing about being with someone else, like Lionel? What made things worse was that Helena was becoming Ginnie Wade’s best friend and spent a lot of time at her house. I thought of their friendship as some sort of bad influence on Helena, and I couldn’t shake the vivid memory of Lionel Wade’s gleaming wet fingers coming out from under my wife’s dress on New Year’s Eve.

  Helena was always home from work before me, so one day in late spring when I got home to find the house empty and she wouldn’t answer her phone I walked down the block to the Wade’s house to see if she was there. Maybe I hoped to ‘catch’ her with Lionel.

  Lionel surprised me by answering the door wearing only a long-tailed dress shirt and nothing else. His erection was hidden by the shirt but the tent it made was quite obvious, as was the round wet spot in the fabric where his cock-head was.

  “You can see this isn’t a good time, Paul. What can I do for you?”

  Before I could ask about Helena, fearing the worst, Bethany Moore, the eighteen-year-old daughter of a friend who lived near us came out of what I knew to be a sun room and said, “Yeah, it’s shitty timing, Mr. Evian. I was almost cumming.” The lithe blond was not concerned with being naked in front of me, nor embarrassed by getting caught having sex with an older married man.

  “I’m looking for Helena,” shocked me finally said.

  “Her and Ginnie went somewhere. And no, I don’t know where though I obviously knew they’d be gone for a while.” He looked at Bethany and grinned while his cock slipped out from behind his shirttails. I saw how Bethany’s face changed when she looked at his semi-rigid manhood.

  “Sorry for bothering you,” I said, “You can go back to doing what you were doing. I’ll let myself out.”

  Bethany yelped “Goodie!” as she dragged Lionel back to the sunroom.

  As I walked away from his door, I thought that at least it wasn’t my wife in there getting it on with him. Bethany wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier but I believed the eighteen-year-old could do a lot be
tter than screw around with a married man. And without a condom! To me that was worse than the sex itself and once again I worried about my wife. Would she be stupid enough to have unsafe sex?

  Before I left the property, I heard Bethany cry out that she was cumming, and turned around in time to see Lionel—easily enough from the driveway with the sunroom addition’s glass wall—arch his back and bellow. I should’ve felt guilty for thinking Helena would be here and doing what Bethany was doing, but now that I’ve witnessed Lionel’s basest nature, actually fucking a teenager in his own house while his wife was out, my sense of worry that my wife was doing the same wouldn’t go away.

  ***

  I knew something wasn’t quite right with our sex life and my imagination was running wild with the New Year’s party scene still indelibly etched in my mind. When Helena came home from shopping with Ginnie one day and proudly showed me the bikini she’d bought, I was flabbergasted.

  “Why?” I asked. “Your one-piece wasn’t sexy enough? We weren’t planning a beach vacation so where are you going to wear it?”

  “Ginnie said you’d be like that,” she replied.

  “Like what?”

  “A prude.”

  “I’m not a prude,” I protested.

  “Then what is it? You say nice things about my body but do you mean it?”

  “Of course I do, my love. You’re the sexiest woman alive.”

  “Then why don’t you show it?” she said, and I was shocked. She was only getting started, it seemed. “I guess because we’re married you don’t have to, but I get passes every day by all kinds of men. It makes a woman feel desirable to be looked at that way. I love you, Paul, but I wish you still lusted for and pursued me like when we were single.”

  “Is that what Lionel Wade was doing at New Year’s?” I felt good saying it because I saw it hurt her, “Making you feel desirable since I don’t do it enough? That’s Lionel, the virtuous man who fucks his teenage neighbor as soon as his wife is out of the house.”

  “That’s what I mean, talking about what other men do and don’t do instead of being a man yourself. What happened at the Wade’s was an alcohol-fueled mistake, but at least he tried, and don’t think that Ginnie doesn’t know about the Moore girl or any of the others.”

  “There are others?” I blurted out.

  Helena laughed. “Of course there are. That man could probably fuck 24-7 if someone would let him.”

  “Have you…let him?”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer, but I will make a comment of my own. Lionel asked me to model the bikini for him as soon as he knew I bought it. Why haven’t you asked me?”

  “You’ve got it all figured out: I’m a prude, judgmental, lacking in sensuality, and can keep it in my pants. So, what do you suggest I do to change? Call Bethany Moore?”

  “Forget it,” she said and walked to our bedroom in a huff, waving the bikini in the air like a battle flag, which perhaps it was. “I’ll wear it in Ginnie Wade’s back yard, by the pool. I’m sure Lionel will appreciate it.” She closed the door with an adequate slam.

  Okay, so I screwed up badly. I won’t apologize for the way I felt about Helena and the Wades. Lionel’s fingering of my wife wasn’t an illusion. Something definitely was going on and basically I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t about to surrender my wife but I didn’t have it in me to be a Neanderthal either and go punch his lights out. One thing I could do—after all I’m very good with electronics—was set up a camera above the Wades’ pool fence as an ‘evidence’ gathering tool. I have a couple of really good wireless cameras that I can activate remotely, and which can transmit the distance to my house. One of them is weatherproof and has a great long-life battery. It can be encrypted so no one else except a determined hacker could receive the signal. What was fortuitous was that Brad Healy and his wife, who owned the property that abutted the Wades’ were gone for two weeks, giving me the opportunity to plant the camera in one of their trees overlooking the Wades’ pool. Once I confirmed what was going on with Helena I could confront them all and put a stop to this baloney.

  Ginnie called Helena on the next hot summer Saturday and invited her over. Since the confrontation about the bikini, Helena and I had sex only once, and that was pretty perfunctory though her orgasm wasn’t faked, which actually made things worse for me because all I did was wonder who she was fantasizing being with. At least today I got to see her in the new bikini before she left the house.

  “I’m sorry for everything, and I wish I’d seen you in that when you bought it. It’s… you’re gorgeous, darling. Can I talk you into staying home, and maybe…?” I said.

  I might have accepted any look she gave me except the one of pity I got. “Ginnie’s waiting. Maybe tonight?” Her tone told me not to hold my breath. I almost said “Is Lionel waiting too?” but thought better of it. I was going to activate the camera and that would tell me everything.

  I opened my laptop, sent the signal to activate the cam, and sat back in anticipation. I knew it was a great cam but the picture quality was even better than I’d expected. I patted myself on the back for its placement in the tree since I had a fantastic view of the pool and the lounge chairs surrounding it. Ginnie and my wife emerged from the house with tumblers in their hands. Iced tea, or would they be drinking liquor so early, I wondered?

  Before they each settled into a lounge chair, I watched them kiss and didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t exactly lascivious yet the kiss looked to be more than just a friendship buss. The women talked but the audio wasn’t up to the quality of the video and I only picked up a word or two every so often. I heard a few words to indicate they talked about me. I heard the word jealous and what was either limp or wimp, neither option pleased me.

  I expected to see Lionel hanging around my wife like the proverbial fly on shit, but he didn’t make an appearance until about an hour later. He joked with the women that nobody was around and that they should be at least topless (his voice carried better than theirs). Ginnie looked at my wife, and Helena answered “Why not” and proceeded to remove her top. Ginnie did the same, but it wasn’t bare tits that caught my eye. Lionel dropped his shorts at the same time while making a comment about “sexy women.” Whether I wanted to or not I got my first clear look at his cock, and at least he wasn’t larger than me. Adding envy to jealousy would’ve made things worse, I thought. Ginnie made a joke about something and Lionel knelt between the lounge chairs, and thus between the women.

  I saw everything.

  He said, “Hot damn, Helena! You need to free those tits more often!” And that’s when he cupped one of them and squeezed.

  With Lionel implying that he wasn’t accustomed to seeing my wife’s naked breasts I should have been relieved, and yet he brazenly grabbed one and she didn’t stop him. Ginnie pulled him to her and they kissed. Long and hard, to the point I knew there was a lot of tongue action going on. Lionel’s hand though was still on my wife, roaming over her from breast to navel and back again. The picture was sharp enough for me to see that Helena’s nipples were puckered and stiff and that she’d raised her hips from the lounger as if to meet an imaginary body.

  I focused on my wife and her body language. I rarely saw her that aroused, and it hurt. Lionel separated from his wife’s lips, arose and let out a “Whew!” sound. He was very erect.

  And admittedly I was too.

  Was this where Lionel would fuck my wife, or would they be more circumspect and go into the house to do it? Frankly I wasn’t sure which one would bother me the most; seeing them fuck or having my imagination fill in the blanks just as I have been doing since the New Year’s Eve party.

  During these troubling ruminations Lionel suddenly asked his wife if he could call “Maria.” The only Maria I knew was Bethany Moore’s best friend Maria Mendoza. As Lionel went into the house to ostensibly make the call my puzzled brain tried to figure out what was going on. I sat there in front of my laptop and watched the two
women gazing at each other strangely, wondering what kind of silent communication was going on between them. My cock wilted but not before wetting my briefs with what felt like a lot of pre-cum.

  After a minute or two of silence, Helena sat up on the edge of her lounge chair and commented to Ginnie how lucky she was to have such a unique marriage of “love and trust.” Love and trust? Lucky? The guy openly touched other men’s wives (in the least he touched mine) and screwed a teenage girl when his wife was away, and Helena thought their marriage was built on love and trust? She had to be joking.

  Ginnie sat up too and said, “I am lucky,” emphasizing the word am, as she reached out to take Helena’s hand in hers. That’s when they leaned toward each other and kissed, no less passionately than the preceding kiss between husband and wife. When their lips parted, one of them whispered something and they stood and walked toward the pool. Seeing the two topless women holding hands and so close together really accentuated their physical differences. Ginnie was at least a foot taller than Helena and with her A-cup breasts and non-existent hips, not nearly as sensually appealing, at least to me.

  Together they jumped into the pool and then came together for another long kiss. Some below the waterline fumbling went on and I knew their bikini bottoms were coming off long before they threw them toward the lounge chairs they’d just vacated.

  I thought I was prepared to witness everything but I hadn’t expected this. Now I understood the previous scene with Lionel; it wasn’t him I’d lost my wife to after all. Some serious fondling went on for a while until Ginnie pulled Helena toward the pool’s ladder. She urged my wife up the ladder until she sat her down on the top step, spread her legs and went down on her. Helena’s head was back, her eyes closed and her mouth open. It didn’t take long for my wife to climax loudly.