The Affair

 
Affair Story Submitted By Anonymous Guest Author

I sat in the darkness of an empty house hopelessly trying to recall when it began. The change in Lori over the past six months had been slow and almost imperceptible, but as of this moment, it was obvious and painfully evident. If only I had paid more attention to the subtle signals and supported her by initiating dialogue about her grief over the death of her father. Perhaps it would not have come to this today.

Lori was an only child whose mother went out shopping when she was five and never returned. Her dad never spoke about it to her or anyone else. He changed jobs so he could be there every day as she grew and committed himself to be the best father any motherless girl ever had. It was not easy, especially in puberty and teenage years, but he persevered, never complained, or allowed his needs to supplant hers. He was the most dedicated parent any child could have.

However, I didn't ask or probe; I didn't know how or what to say, so I did nothing. Nothing when I came home and her eyes were red from crying, nothing when I would hear her sobbing in bed at night, nothing at all!

I knew she was grieving and depressed but assumed it would pass when she worked through her grief. After all, she was a strong woman whose favorite line about whining women was "they just need to pull their big girl panties up and get on with it." But right now in from of me was proof that my tact was flawed. I was staring at an email from an account I was unaware of that I inadvertently stumbled upon when I went online to pay some bills. She had needed comfort and support and had found it online! The email string went back three months and began innocently enough, but as time passed, the exchanges became less about grief support and more about personal, private thoughts and creating an emotional bond. It wasn't clear whether this person was male or female, and until today they had never met in person. I presumed the worst, fearing the writer was another man.

I noticed she looked stunning when she went to work today, unusual for her. A low-cut, short black dress that stretched tight across her 36 C breasts, hugging her tiny 26" waist and accentuating her athletic 5' 6" frame sensationally. Her red-streaked brunette hair curled softly at her half-bare shoulders. She was wearing 3" red heels and carrying a red handbag; I had never seen any of this outfit before. I remember thinking to myself how great she looked and smelled, but now realized I had not said anything to her.

As I sat staring through the email on the computer screen, I jumped when my cell phone rang. It was Lori saying she was going to meet some girlfriends for drinks and appetizers at Whispers, an upscale local hotel bar. I couldn't believe it; in the twenty-five years we had been married, we had been faithful to each other, never even a whiff infidelity, but based on the email I just read and my presumption that the writer was a man that was about to change taking my marriage and life with it.

The line went dead, and I just sat there dazed. I loved her; I should have been there for her; I should have been the one she sought for comfort and support. But I didn't know how to help or what to say, so I did nothing except hope she would just get over it. Clearly, it was the wrong approach; she had searched for and found help and comfort on the Internet in some chat room.

I struggled with what to do now; should I stay home and wait or go to the bar and secretly observe the meeting. I decided to go to the bar. It felt wrong, like spying, but at this moment, my mind was held hostage by my emotions, not logic. In less than five minutes, I was out the door and on my way to the bar. As I drove, I became more confused, agitated, and overwrought; by the time I arrived at the hotel parking lot, I was shaking. I parked as far from her car as possible and entered the bar through the hotel lobby rather than the outside entrance in order to slip in undetected before carefully scanning the room for her.

The bar was crowded with the Friday night after work happy hour crowd, so finding her without being seen didn't seem like it would be that difficult. I pushed through the middle of the crowd just behind the bar while I searched the faces of women seated at the bar and the booths to the left of the bar unsuccessfully. I would have to risk being seen by taking the bolder approach of walking the perimeter to search those booths and tables I could not see currently. I moved slowly and carefully, staying behind others as much as possible as I strained to see into booths located at least two ahead of me.

As I approached the 8th booth, I noticed a dark-haired man about my age with his hand across the table holding the left hand of a woman I instantly knew to be my wife's by the wedding ring that adorned that hand. I stopped immediately and took inventory of the man holding my wife's hand and perhaps her heart. He sat erect in the booth, his short brown hair neatly trimmed, his blue eyes focused only on her. My heart was racing; I was frozen in place when I was bumped by an over severed patron bustling loudly through the crowd.

Afraid his voice would call attention to my location; I ducked behind another person in case my wife leaned out to see what the commotion was all about. Thankfully, she didn't look, and I continued to use the crowd to move through the room so I could see her too. I successfully maneuvered through the throng, and when I was directly adjacent to her booth, I was lucky enough to find a small high top cocktail table with a couple focused only on each other and an empty chair. I interrupted their noisy interlude and asked if I could sit; without verbally responding, the guy waved me to sit down.

Thankfully they were opposite me, and their position between me and my wife's booth shielded me from all but a direct look from her, which given her current attention to her date seemed highly unlikely. Thankfully within minutes, a server came by to check the status of the drinks of my tablemates. They both ordered another round, and I took the opportunity to order a scotch neat. I watched intently as their conversation continued unabated, and he reached across the table to now be holding both her hands. She responded by rubbing the top of them lightly with her thumb. She appeared to be totally captivated by his attention.

When my drink came, I asked the server to put the couple's drinks on my tab before I downed the first in one long draw and ordered another before she left the table. The scotch burned as it hit my throat, causing me to wince, but I really needed the numbness I hoped it would bring. I continued watching the activity in my wife's booth as my mind was bombarded by thoughts of what they might be saying and where this was leading. Did he have a room here, I wondered, she was a light drinker and an easy drunk, how soon would he recognize that and take full advantage? My stomach was turning as I fought the urge to throw up.

As my second drink arrived, Lori excused herself and got up. As she slid from the booth, her short black dress slid up her thighs, momentarily exposing a red thong. Seemingly embarrassed, she pressed her hands along her hips to smooth the dress along with her lovely thighs before she walked off, smiling her hips swaying playfully as she did. I watched as "he" craned his neck to the left in order to watch her move away.

I wanted to jump up, walk over to the booth, smash his face into the table, knocking him unconscious, and drag him outside as far away from my precious wife as possible. However, not wanting to spend the night in jail, I elected to just take a long pull on my second drink. I just sat there; my emotions were vacillating between anger and depression.

I ducked behind the couple as Lori walked back to the table. Again as she turned to slide in, her dress rode up her thighs, this time exposing her glistening bare pubis. She had removed the tiny red thong when she went to the bathroom! I signaled the server for another drink as I sucked the remaining burning liquid from my current glass. I continued to watch in tortured amazement as she slid the shoe from her foot before lifting it and placing it between his legs. A surprised look shot across his face before an impish grin appeared on his lips. Her face was flush either from the alcohol or the moment. Either way, it was more than I could bear to watch.

When the server brought my third drink, I asked for my bill and turned away. I sat listlessly waiting for the bill as I finished my drink. When the server appeared, I took two twenties from my pants pocket and handed them to her and turned to walk away, my tablemates barely acknowledging my departure. Despondent, I shuffled from the bar, into the lobby and out to my car. I unlocked the door, slid in, and put the key in the ignition but didn't turn it. Instead, I pushed my head forward, crashing my forehead into the steering wheel. Tears filled my eyes as I let out a scream in an effort to release some emotion. It didn't help, and I just sat there, unable to drive, lost in a multitude of thoughts.

I lost track of time as I contemplated how to deal with this situation. I considered confronting her, leaving her, pretending it never happened, and doing whatever I had to do to get her back. Then I wondered what she would do; have an affair with this guy, tell me about him, ask for a separation, or just serve divorce papers after she had everything in order. Without deciding on a solution, I turned the key, started the car, and exited the lot for home as darkness filled the clear sky. When I arrived home, twenty minutes later, I was surprised to see her car in its place upon opening the garage door. I didn't see her leave the hotel. Clearly, I sat in the parking lot longer than I thought. I really didn't know if I should be relieved or frightened.

I pulled in, got out, and closed the garage door before walking into the house. The house was dark but for a soft glow illuminating the hallway to the living room and the faint fragrance of her presence that hung in the air. Assuming her asleep, I tiptoed from the kitchen toward the hall and the stairs to our bedroom. As I turned the corner, I was startled to see Lori sitting on the couch, still dressed in the black dress she left in this morning, her legs crossed demurely over each other, and her heels dangling from her jiggling foot. Her damp hazel eyes reflected the flaming flicker of the candles burning throughout the room. I just stood there, unable to speak, shoulders slumped. When she asked where I had been, I remained mute. I couldn't tell her I had been at the bar secretly watching her, but the booze on my breath would give away the fact that I had been drinking if she got close.

So I decided to come partially clean; "After I got your call about going out with the girls, I decided to get out and have a drink at Hugo's. How was your evening?" I asked somewhat sarcastically. "It held a defining moment for me; I waited up for you because I have a confession to make." Shit, I thought here it comes; she wants a divorce or at least a trial separation.

"After my dad died, I was lost. We were very close, and I found no matter how hard I tried, I could not talk to you about how I felt, and you never asked. I was overwrought. I needed to talk to someone, someone who would understand. I thought about a social worker or a psychologist, but I didn't know how to pick one. So I went on the Internet and searched for grief support groups. I was in and out of several chat groups before I finally found one where the conversations were helpful. As the months passed, I found myself most helped by one contributor, and we began emailing outside of the group. At first, the conversations were purely platonic and centered only on grief, but as time wore on, they became more personal, and I found myself emotionally attracted to this unknown person. I didn't know if it was a man or a woman and after each conversation convinced myself that it had to be a woman because no man would be able to interpret and understand feelings the way this person did.

Then the day I knew would come finally came; they wanted to meet in person. I resisted at first, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I agreed to meet tonight after work at Whispers. I was as excited as I was apprehensive. I thought about what I would do if my supporter was a man, how would I dress, how I would act. I have been a married woman for 25 plus years. Subconsciously I hoped it would be a man because he was everything you were not, sensitive and a great listener. So just in case, I wanted to look sexy and see if another man could be interested in a 47-year-old woman. So in advance, I went to a local spa and had my pussy waxed, and my hair and nails done. Then I went out and bought this new black dress and a red lace thong. When I left for work this morning, I thought people would see me either as a middle-aged whore or a sophisticated professional woman. True to form, if you noticed, you said nothing.

I was pissed and committed to this new relationship. The women at the office sure noticed each remarked how spectacular I looked. I even caught the younger men in the office looking twice and felt their eyes on my ass as I walked past. Honestly, it felt great; it was a real boost for my self-confidence. I was to meet my unknown comforter at five, and each time I looked at the clock, the hands seemed stuck in place. Finally, when 4:30 rolled around, I asked if I could leave early, and Heidi let me go, although not without the cursory, "make him at least buy you dinner before you show him what you've got" quip. I laughed and waved as I flew out the door.

When I walked into Whispers, I didn't know who I was looking for, so I chose a booth near the back that gave me an unobstructed view of the door. At five sharp, a slender, incredibly handsome man who appeared to be about 6'3" tall walked through the door. He was dressed in what appeared to be a thousand-dollar suit, his brown hair was graying at the temples, and had blue eyes a person could get lost in. Part of me wanted it to be him I was waiting for, and part of me trembled at the thought. He strolled right to my table, extended his hand, and said Lori 911, I presume? I was flabbergasted, I stumbled for words, my face and chest went instantly red as I nodded yes. He slid into the booth and asked what I was drinking. I managed to get out white wine before the server showed up at the table to take his order. He asked if I minded if he drank something a little stronger and ordered a vodka martini and another glass of Chablis for me. I just sat there, searching for words. Thankfully he started the conversation saying that I looked exactly as he envisioned my, except much more beautiful.

I was embarrassed but buoyed by the compliment, even though I knew it was a line, but a very good one! After that, we talked, and I relaxed some becoming more comfortable each passing minute and glass of wine. After an hour, I had to pee, so I excused myself to the ladies' room. He stood as I exited the table, and I remember thinking what a gentleman. In the ladies' room, I found an empty stall, locked the door, and sat. I was confused about my feelings and what to do. After peeing, I removed my thong rather than pull it up, sliding it in my purse as I exited the stall. As I stood at the sink, washing my hands, looking at the woman I barely knew in front of me, I began to cry. I was standing there staring at myself, tears running down my face when an older woman walked in the bathroom. She came immediately to me and, without a word, held me. Comforted by her presence, I stopped crying, apologizing to her for my tears.

Intuitively, she asked if it was a man problem; I responded affirmatively and told her I was married but had just met a man in person that I had been having a 6-month dialogue with on the Internet. I told her how sensitive, observant, and wonderful he was and that I was at a crossroads. She asked only if I still loved my husband. Without thinking about it, I responded, absolutely. She told me she had been married 40 plus years, and over that time, she had learned that marriage was a journey that requires commitment and occasional blindness; it is never perfect, but if you love him, take the lead, show him every day and I guarantee he will be the man you married again. Without another word, she disappeared into a stall.

I cleaned my mascara and went back to the table. Without sitting, I thanked my Internet. Confidant for all he had done for me in my time of grief, the conversation, and the drinks, but that I needed to get home to the husband I loved and that I would be closing the Lori911 email. I didn't wait for his reply; instead, I turned on the toe of my heel and exited the bar without looking back. As I started my car, I felt relief and happiness for the first time in months. I drove home, as fast as I legally could, anxious to get home to you, but when you weren't home, I was devastated. I couldn't wait to tell you about my temptation and the subsequent life-changing moment and how much I loved you. I called your cell phone, and when you didn't answer, I got nervous; what if my inattention to you caused you to seek out someone as I had, and you weren't able to resist the temptation. After all, you were still incredibly attractive, and any woman would be happy to have you in her bed.

Strangely, after my actions over the last six months, this thought made me green with jealously. I didn't want to share you with anyone. I could not bear the thought of you in another woman's bed, although I could understand how I may have driven you there. I lit candles and sat here praying that you would walk through that door so I could tell you about my ah-ha moment, how much I loved you and how I was committed to give myself to you in every way, every day if you would only understand."

Out of breath and things to say, Lori just sat there, as I took time to formulate what to say. Should I tell her I discovered and read her secret email and that I went to Whispers to see what happened, and should I tell her I decided to fight for her and win her back? As I stood, twinkling tears welled in the corner of her eyes and were soon pouring down her cheeks off her chin and creating a glistening shimmer on her exposed cleavage.

Instead of saying anything, I moved across the room and held out my hands and arms as an invitation to pull her up. She responded to my embrace by pushing to her tiptoes and kissing me on the lips. I stood stiff; the images of her at the bar still fresh in my mind. Undeterred, she opened her mouth and ran her tongue along my lips in an attempt to gain access to my mouth as she pressed herself hard into my chest, allowing me to feel her uncovered hard nipples through her thin black dress. It was too much to resist; I succumbed to her advance in spite of the anger and confusion I felt. I opened my mouth and received her probing tongue. It sent a bolt of excitement to my brain, which immediately transmitted a message to my groin to send blood to dangling member.

I returned her hug, locking us in a passionate embrace, our tongues darting in and out of each other's oral cavity, our lips locked. I had given in so easily, not even confronting her about the email or the meeting, but at this moment, I only wanted all of this woman who was dressed so sexy and who just professed her love and commitment to me; besides, I never wanted anyone but her and had vowed to win her back. I lowered my hand from her shoulder, slid it around to her breast, and began a gentle massage. Her nipple was rock hard and protruding further than I had ever seen or felt. I rolled it between my fingers, pinching it occasionally.

She began to grind her sex against my rapidly stiffening cock more intently as I felt her hand slip from my back to my butt, where she proceeded to grab and pull at my cheeks. I pulled my other hand from her back and began the same treatment on her other breast. Both were now squirming with desire; she pushed my hips back, maintaining contact with my mouth while she fumbled with my belt and zipper. I broke contact with her lips, moved my hands off her breasts to the sides of her dress, and pulled it up and over her head before letting it drift to the living room floor.

She was now standing before me completely naked, her nipples fully extended inside her shrunken brown areolas. I surveyed her body for the first time in months, noting her freckled chest and the birthmark formerly hidden by her pubic hair that was now completely visible on her bare pubis. She was stunning. She held out her arms and finished unbuckling my pants before hooking her thumbs in my boxers and sliding both items off my hips and down my legs, my engorged cock now free sprang up like a jack in the box. Rather than unbutton my shirt, she just pulled the shirttail and ripped.

Buttons flew across the room; she giggled as she pushed the shirt off my shoulders and down my arms, letting it fall into the same puddle of clothing as my pants and her dress. I pushed her gently back onto the couch, grabbed her ankles, and pulled until her beautifully bare pussy was on the edge of the couch. I slowly pulled her legs apart and pushed them into the air until one was on each side of my head, treating me to her fragrant pussy, glistening with sweet nectar lubricating her vaginal lips. I knelt slightly, aligning my pre-cum moistened cock as she used her fingers to spread her inner lips, fully exposing her.

I resisted dropping to my knees and licking her beauty until she came, instead of reserving that for later as I gently glided my cock into her waiting vagina all the time, continuing to play with her engorged nipples. I moved slowly at first but began to lose control with each stroke of her pussy that was tight from months without sex. She cried out faster, move faster. I am close. I want to come with you inside me. Needing no further encouragement, I complied, pumping faster and harder, my balls bouncing against her perfect ass. In minutes with groans and screams filling the room, she climaxed as I did.

She turned to the side, and I fell on top of her for a moment before sliding to her side. As we lay in our sexual euphoria, I decided against saying anything about what happened earlier that evening. Instead, I only said, "I love you, unconditionally and will until the end of time." She didn't respond; the smile that crossed her face said it all.