For those who have followed the story this is Carol’s reflection six months on. Hopefully it explains a few things and wraps up some loose ends.

Carol’s Story

If you’ve read the story so far you probably have very mixed feelings about me, I put Chris through a lot and there are days when I still feel guilty. It’s taken a while to
get to a place where I can write this. I haven’t had sex with anyone other than Chris in six months but some things I did still play on my mind at dark moments. I’ve told Chris everything— sometimes with tears and sometimes with laughter. There isn’t a man or a woman, a flower or a painting that I’ve lusted after that he doesn’t know about.

Chris and me go back a long way; way, way back, like before, before— at school and university we were almost side by side except he was a year older. He got his degree a year before me, and started working for a company, doing all that nine to five stuff while I kept house while I studied. Chris would come home every evening and I’d have food on the table. The days when I had classes we sometimes ate out and Chris did housework when I had to study for exams. That was us; domestic bliss like they show you on the TV.

My mom and dad were like that too and so were Chris’s parents. Our university was miles away from our folks, so it was kind of convenient for one of us to get the home together while the other earned the money.

What nobody tells you about is the way the grind can get to you. Chris worked too many hours and did too much overtime because there was never quite as much money as we hoped. We got by with a little help from our folks, which I guess is what a lot of newly-weds do.

We celebrated my degree and then everything went wrong— like if it could go wrong then it did. I had a miscarriage, which was shit because I, well we, never meant to get pregnant. It was one of those pill failures where you get a stomach upset and the pills don’t work on crucial days.

We spent a few weeks trying to decide what to do and exactly when we’d made up our minds to be pleased we lost it. It made me feel like shit. Chris had his work but all I had was an empty house and feeling worthless. I put off job hunting when the pregnancy test arrived and then when I lost It I felt so bad that all I could do was stay home and cry.

If it had happened a few weeks earlier we’d have been relieved, but bad luck or bad timing or fate, or whatever it was gave us all the angst and then kicked us in the teeth as soon as we felt good.

Chris could see me falling apart. He’d come home and… well you can guess, no supper or boring food or worse than that; ready meals— the things that cost more, taste worse, and make you fat.

Chris announced after a few weeks of my tears that he planned to quit work and go freelance.

“That way I can be around for you. I’ve got lots of contacts already, I can build a business, you can help, it’ll get you out of yourself.”

He said a lot of stuff like that and kept at it for weeks until I gave in. It kind of worked too. Over the next six months his work gradually took off but I can’t say I was a lot of help. My degree was in marketing and he didn’t need much of that. I built the web site and answered the phone— it was better than nothing and it gradually got me looking outwards again. Time probably helped but Chris made all the difference, he was so solid. He’d probably say it’s what anyone would do, but that’s what he’s like.

I’ve never understood why my confidence was so shot. Objectively it makes no sense, what do hormones and uteruses have to do with keeping house or getting a job? Something in me shifted, something that said if your body can’t look after an embryo, what good is it for anything else. It’s like post natal depression only without the natal part. Chris did his best, and his best is good. Maybe he should have been mad at me… Who knows, I guess there are no right answers.

I decided that I needed to get out of the house, even though Chris was there and being so kind. I managed to persuade Chris that I ought to work, even if it was only part time. I hunted around and found a job and gradually we ground our way out of trouble. Work made a difference, gave me something that I could actually do and my fragile confidence picked up a little.

Three months later Chris’s dad died and my parents broke up, so the bank of mom and dad dried up. It threw us together even more. Chris became my safe place. I felt in some crazy way that I didn’t deserve Chris, I’d done nothing to earn what he was doing for me, I couldn’t even make a baby.

As I began to get better and he was still there as steady as ever, I think that was when I started to take him for granted. He was so solid, so unselfish; he became my rock and what do you do with a rock— you stand on it.

We struggled along and made ends meet; Chris got more contracts and I did better than I expected. The firm asked me to go full time, which gave me another little boost and with me being out of the house Chris got much better at cooking.

Six months into that arrangement the company I worked for got taken over and there was a whole flurry of reorganising and competing for jobs. Chris coached me through all that, helping me practice at presenting myself.

Chris has to pitch his ideas to get contracts, so he’s made himself good at that. He convinced me that I was better than I thought, got me through the imposter syndrome and I ended up on this team with Dean and Jay.

I was over-promoted; really I never should have gotten that job, I can see that now. I think Dean was eyeing me up at the interview. I didn’t see it then, obviously. I don’t know too much about the other people that were interviewed— most of them were men— obviously Dean didn’t fancy any of them.

Dean played me, I guess that’s no surprise if you’ve read the story as told by Chris. So how was I taken in? Dean was clever. He congratulated me on getting the job and somehow managed to make it sound as  though that was a surprise to everyone. He put me on the back foot, made it clear that I needed to prove myself.

That spooked me. Maybe I shouldn’t have let Chris coach me, he was brilliant but as soon as Dean gave me doubts and Chris wasn’t there my confidence wobbled. Looking back I’m sure that was what Dean had in mind. We were away all week, every week; there was no escape from him and he could take his time, watch how things went and make it all seem natural.

To begin with I hunkered down in my room in the evenings. That was awful. I phoned Chris every night and he was so supportive and encouraging I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how bad I felt.

I started going to the gym in whatever hotel we were in. I read somewhere that getting fit and burning off calories boosted endorphins. That was supposed to be like a sort of superpower. The way I was feeling it had to be worth a shot.

At the weekends I tried to tell Chris but Chris did what he’s so good at— made great meals, pampered me and told me it was always tough at the start. I guess for most folk in a new job that’s good advice and I can’t blame Chris for telling me that, I mean he loved me, right, and he wanted to help.

It made a difference, at least for the weekends but come Monday I had to go back to another week of being put in my place and working out in the gym. Now and then I’d miss calls from Chris— sometimes I was so depressed I forgot to put my phone on charge and sometimes I was in the gym when Chris called my room. I’d realise at bedtime that it was too late to phone and went to bed feeling worse.

We went on like that for a few months and then one weekend I was exhausted and maybe had a virus so I slept most of the time. Chris wanted me to stay home the next week but my pride made me keep going. Dumb really, a week off would have done me good and I might have talked to Chris.

Dean knew when to strike. He was clever,  he let me spend the day in bed and organised our rooms next to each other— the notorious 401 and 403 with the connecting door. The first day he let me skip work, gave me stuff to read up about customers. Come the evening he organised room service and gently quizzed me about what I’d been reading. You can imagine what that meant, him sitting on my bed asking questions, then gradually going further, giving me this whisky with ginger and some other herbs that he said was his special restorative mixture.

From there it went to joking around and laughing about one thing or another but he didn’t make a move. He didn’t make a move on Tuesday or Wednesday either but we did laugh a lot. By Thursday I trusted him enough to leave the connecting door open.

That night he complained that looking after me meant he didn’t get the chance to indulge in his usual entertainment. I never realised that he thought being away from home was a chance to seduce local women.

He was clever, very smooth. Of course now I know he’d played that game before. I fell for the line, asked him what he usually did and he kind of allowed me to drag it out of him. He played modest, didn’t like to brag, all that kind of stuff. He got me a bit more drunk than the other nights and some time close to midnight I gave him a blowjob.

I know shouldn’t have done it, but I was in bed in my too revealing nightdress. He told me I was tempting him too much, making him hard and that night he wore pyjamas so it was easy to see he was telling the truth. Catching glimpses of his big hard cock made it exciting and somehow it seemed like the least I could do after he’d looked after me all week. I didn’t let him fuck me, though he obviously wanted to. By settling for a blowjob he somehow made himself seem like a gentleman, and made me feel as though I was in control. Ha, ha, what a sucker I was.

I insisted on going into work on Friday. I felt guilty as hell. I thought being around Dean might be awkward, but I was determined to tough it out.  He was cool; no hidden innuendo, all business, technical, professional, giving me nothing to complain about. He did everything he needed to do to seem like a good guy.

Back home I couldn’t tell Chris I’d been in bed all week. He’d told me to stay home and I didn’t. I had to make stuff up; inventing a story about how boring the week had been so there was nothing to talk about. I gave Chris a blowjob out of guilt. That surprised him.

It didn’t help, I couldn’t help comparing Dean and Chris and that made me feel more guilty. Truthfully Dean is only a little bigger than Chris, but Dean had spent the evening teasing and getting harder and harder, whereas I caught Chris by surprise and that exaggerated the difference. Hindsight is so accurate isn’t it, I can see it now, but I didn’t then.

After that Dean reeled me in. I tried to stop it the next week, said I felt guilty, told him over and over that I was married.

“So am I,” he said. “Look Carol don’t let it get to you, we’re all grown ups, work is stressful, we all need a bit of relief. What happens at work stays at work— it’s like commercial in confidence, trade secrets, all that sort of stuff. Your secret’s safe with me and mine’s safe with you, right?”

I suppose it was, but that idea made a sort of cocoon around us and inside that we could do what we liked. That was the way he sold it and whatever else he was, he was a salesman.

The more I gave into him on the sex front the less he exposed my ignorance at work. He stopped calling out my inexperience. He stopped humiliating me. There was a side effect to all that, though I didn’t see it at first, when he stopped keeping me out of decisions I saw how the business worked, realised that he had an overvalued idea of his own brilliance. I saw ways we could have done more business and that gave me confidence, made me strong enough to think I could manage Dean each week and not tell Chis at the weekends. I didn’t think it was serious, Dean was married, so surely that had to mean my marriage was safe. Looking back I’m sure that idea was planted in my head by Dean.

I have to admit that I enjoyed it. Getting a lot of attention does that for you. I stopped being depressed about going to work and that made Chris think I was doing better. Dean traded off that confidence and brought Jay into the game. We were working together, he said, and I was so sexy it wasn’t fair to keep Jay out, it was good for the team.

When Chris began to suspect that there might be more than just a new job giving me a buzz, I shrugged off his questions. Why didn’t I own up right then? For the first time in a year I felt I was on top of things. Two men thought I was great in bed, well three if you include Chris, and I was doing so much better at work.

I knew Chris wanted to believe me when he had his suspicions. Somewhere inside my head I convinced myself that I was flying and being up there justified Chris’s faith in me.

Did I imagine ditching Dean— no I didn’t think that far ahead. I excused myself by thinking I was using Dean, not the other way around because fucking Dean was getting me into the job. I began to think I could fake it and make Chris think the job was the buzz. It was, partly at least, because Dean getting off my back made it easier to see how the business worked, even if it did mean that I was spending more time on my back under Dean while Jay filmed and had a few turns himself.  No doubt Dean was accumulating material to blackmail me into continuing the arrangement but I didn’t see it that way. I was beginning to nudge ideas into the business and my ideas worked. I thought I was in control and had a good thing going, if Dean wanted to blackmail me then I could blackmail him.

I think that made me overconfident and that’s why I stupidly I happened to mention to Dean about Chris needing to be away some weeks. That gave Dean ideas and he started to pressure me. Looking back it’s obvious that he wanted to add fucking a wife in their marital bed to the notches on his belt. I didn’t see it and we hatched this crazy plan that the safe cocoon that was only supposed to be at work could be temporarily installed at our house, where unbeknown to any of us Chris was ready to record the whole thing.

When Dean invited Chris and I to his barbecue I had no idea what game he was playing. I still don’t know for sure. One possibility is that he thought flaunting his mistress in front of his wife made him a totally big guy. Another possibility is that Dean wanted to size up Chris to see if he was a threat. What neither Dean nor I knew was that Chris had already read my laptop and made his plans. Talking to Chris since then I know he was on his guard the whole time while we were at Dean’s.

Why did I write everything in my laptop? To some extent it was reflex; life was getting complicated so I needed some way to keep track. I wrote business stuff in there for the same reason.  Keeping records on my old laptop became a reflex until the company gave me a new laptop, another Dean reward for being a good girl.  I didn’t dare put my sex life on the work machine, so I used both until one week I packed in too much hurry and left the old one at home.

Maybe there was something freudian as well, maybe I wanted to be found out.

Dean and I had no idea at the barbecue that Chris was onto us and Chris gave no hint. At the barbecue I wore the anklet that Chris bought me, I’d picked it out as a dare to myself, I had no idea that Chris knew what it symbolised. Wearing it was a mistake, I was worried the whole time. Every person I saw at the party might have known what was going on and might have blown my cover. By the time we drove home I was glad to have gotten out unscathed. I guess that hotwife anklet thing is good if you’re playing the game with your husband in the know, it sure adds something, but it doesn’t work if you’re cheating.

There ought to be a rule somewhere that says those things are only allowed if you’re a signed up member of the hotwife union, with your husband fully on board. Of course if anyone had asked I’d have said that Chris bought it for me. I’ve asked Chris since if he was setting me up, but he says no, the anklet was my idea, he’d have bought a ring or a brooch if I’d asked.

Chris picked the heart symbol for my anklet and I should have cottoned on right away that he knew more than he was letting on. That was the only clue that Chris had already found me out and I missed it. The stupid thing was that I already had my eye on that heart, so when Chris picked it it felt like mind reading, I loved it and I never thought for a second why he might have picked it. No genuine hotwife could afford to be so stupid?

With twenty, twenty hindsight I can see that it was a pity I didn’t talk to Chris back then. I could have blagged that guys were hitting on me at work and said I wanted to show them that I needed the anklet to prove that my husband was number one in my life. I was so naive that I wasted that chance.

If you’ve read Chris’s story I guess by now you’ll be waiting with bated breath to hear my side of the great display. Before I get into that I have to own up about the night before. Chris had me ‘bang to rights’ as they used to say in British crime dramas. I’d had more sex than you can count over the two days and I knew that if I did anything with Chris I’d end up wincing or reacting some way that blew things up.

If I had any idea what my clever husband already knew and what he was planning I wouldn’t have worried— well no, I would have worried, but differently and twelve hours earlier.

If I’d fucked Chris that night and said it hurt… well who knows— I didn’t because I was feeling guilty and defensive, Chris plied me with wine and I slept like a log and woke with a hangover. Oversleeping and waking up groggy suited Chris’s plan, so thinking I was being smart I played into his hands.

You know from Chris’s story that when I showered that morning I saw a hickey on my breast. That threw me a little. Back then my home life and my fun cocoon at work were supposed to be totally separate. Carrying marks from one to the other wasn’t part of the plan. I felt some distinct irritation with whoever it was— Dean or Jay— marking me was taking liberties. I smeared concealer on it and resigned myself to making sure that I kept myself covered up for the day.

It made me a little tense, especially as Chris said he had a surprise and I had no idea what it was. As I opened the living room door I know I was on edge, like Chris said in his version of the story. Maybe I was being haughty — he’s right that I often don’t like surprises and maybe I was feeling guilty too, that little reminder on my breast had made sure of that.

Even now I can’t put into words what happened next but it’s only fair to try.

I saw the walls were covered in pictures. I had a hangover and although I’d showered I hadn’t put my contacts in. I don’t really need them around the house and I was a little hung over so my first glance at the pictures was a little blurred.

New pictures, I thought and first off I was annoyed at Chris— we’ve always worked together on our decor. This wasn’t one new picture, it was a room full— what the hell was he thinking?

I spun around to face back to the door, I think because I expected Chris to be standing there ready to see what I made of the new pictures and I was confronted by my own words.

Fuck me
Fuck me
Fuck me right now.

The words were in a giant speech bubble coming out of a picture of my face, printed about twice normal size with huge letters that no one could mistake.

I reeled back, I knew exactly when I said those words and two steps back from the door was where I was when I said them.

After that it was a while before I saw anything clearly. My heart was beating off the clock, my eyes were full of tears and I could hardly breathe. I staggered back to the sofa and there was a picture right in my face of me sucking Dean’s cock. Huge, actually larger than life, right in front of me. I almost threw up— I could taste Dean again. I could feel his cock stuffing into my throat, feel myself gagging.

I cried; God knows how long I cried, it felt like forever. I could barely breath.

At some point I staggered into the kitchen and sat at the counter. Chris says that I walked around the other pictures on the wall as if it was an art gallery. I have no recollection of that, though I know it’s true, I’ve seen the movie. I actually picked up my spare glasses that I use for watching the TV at night and studied each picture.

Was it cruel of Chris to record my agony as I looked at the pictures, preserving my visceral reaction to his display? I think he was right— it might have been the last he ever saw of me— imagine if I hadn’t cared, or if I’d laughed in his face, told him that Dean was a better lover and there was all the proof he needed. It would have torn Chris apart but if ever he had doubts he could look back and know what a horrible woman he’d been married to. I think his overkill was exactly right.

I don’t think he worked it out exactly like that, as far as I can tell he was recording so that he could see that I was safe while he was in the other room. He knew he had to blow everything apart if we were to have a fresh start and being Chris he needed to be sure that while he was out of the room that I hadn’t thrown myself on the floor, slashed my wrists or had a fit.

When I made it to the kitchen counter and that infamous life sized picture of Dean fucking me right there on that counter I found Chris’s message,

“I still love you.”

I think it was about then that I uttered my immortally dumb line.

“I think I may have underestimated you.”

Chris completely stunned me.  One time or another, when guilt overtook me some night in a hotel, I had vaguely considered the possibility of being found out; any cheater would wouldn’t they, but  in my imagination I thought I’d still have some leeway. The way I saw it playing out would be Chris asking me about some incident, I don’t know what it might have been, but I thought for sure it would be something I could own up to, say it was a one off, make up to Chris and tell Dean it had to stop.

I never imagined that Chris would know absolutely everything and get Dean and Jay fired. Even now I still think what he did was totally amazing. In the midst of feeling awful, losing weight, imagining his life going down the tubes, he managed to think through a meticulous, technically demanding plan, not breath a word of any of it and spring it on me when it would have the biggest impact.

Sitting there in the kitchen, staring at an image of me lying on the kitchen counter, legs spread, penetrated, with my face showing nothing but wanton lust I had no defence. There was no way I could say I was dragged into it, or that I didn’t enjoy it.

I had no idea what to do. I felt as though I’d already been thrown out of the house. My life as I’d known it was over, my world had been Chris and me as far back as I could remember. When I told Chris I wanted to stay I meant it. I meant it because I couldn’t imagine any other life. I said I loved him but right then I think it was force of habit, I don’t think I had any idea what I felt about anything. The biggest thing in my mind was that Chris must hate me. He must hate me for what I’d done and that made me feel so dreadful. It felt like the end of my world.

All that ‘entertainment’ with Dean and Jay was just that— fun, it wasn’t a life. Chris and our home was my safe place and suddenly I’d wrecked it— except Chris hadn’t thrown me out.

I couldn’t fathom what was going on with Chris. His ‘display’ had taken hours to plan and organise, there was a passion behind it that was typical of Chris. There was something about it that was total, leaving me no room for escape. I couldn’t deny anything, I couldn’t say they made me do it, anyone could see that I was enjoying it. I had no idea what to do, I was lost and floundering.

When my heart had stopped pounding I started to be nervous about what else Chris might have planned. When he insisted that we go to the STD clinic a second wave of despair hit me. What if I’d already given him some disease. I thought I’d already hit bottom and then this was worse.

You can’t tell the depth of it from the way Chris has written the story. AIDS and all those other horrors hit me. My playing secret games could end up making Chris ill, could even kill him— that thought was the worst thing ever. Obviously it could do the same to me, but right then I didn’t care about me, it was my fault, I deserved it, Chris didn’t.

With hindsight I think Chris was more savvy and was simply making sure that I realised how stupid I’d been. He made it obvious that I knew very little about Dean or Jay? They’d both fucked me bareback without knowing much about me. In many ways they’d been as irresponsible as me; for all they knew I slept around all the time, so why would they be any more sensible with anyone else?

I think Chris had figured it deeper than that. Dean was an experienced philanderer, he had me sussed out as a previously faithful, vulnerable wife. Chris had it figured too— Dean was married, so Dean’s wife was like the canary down a mineshaft— she wasn’t sick and clearly hadn’t known about or done anything about Dean, so that suggested that he was safe. I think Dean had guessed that Chris was faithful, he knew enough about us before he moved in on me. Dean had let Jay into the game, so he must have thought that I was safe and Jay was safe. Jay was another canary.

I know Chris scouted out the bathroom cabinet when we were at Dean’s barbecue. I know now that he didn’t just look for aftershave and deodorant. He checked for antibiotics and HIV medicine too. He saw no sign of condoms on a quick look at waste bins, but he did see Dean’s wife’s contraceptive pills.

From those two minutes scouting while the rest of the party were downstairs eating barbecue, Chris was fairly sure that we were safe but he didn’t tell me.  Not telling me was probably the right thing to do; back then Chris had no idea if I was reliable. For all Chris knew Dean and Jay might be the tip of a very ugly iceberg. I can’t get Chris to talk about it which makes me realise how tough it must have been for him.

They say there is a point when things are bad where you hit the bottom of the hole and you realise that it can’t get worse. From there the only way is up. That’s where I was that first night. Chris slept but I didn’t. Sometime about sun-up I realised that if I wanted to stay married I had to put some effort in. I had no idea what to do but I had to do something, I had to engage with Chris.

Those scenes at the lake and in the sex shop were me trying to do that; making it up as I went along. I don’t think I got it anything like right but Chris did pay attention to me as much as I did to him. He makes it sound like we had fun, and we did, but I don’t think he did justice to how intense it was that weekend. Try it yourself, try paying attention every single second to someone else, better still try doing it naked and wearing a chastity belt and then to top it off plaster the walls with pictures of yourself being unfaithful and apparently being very into it.

I don’t know why Chris agreed to wear his device, but it had exactly the right effect on me. It was a game, but a game we were playing together. I know Chris was indulging me but it made a huge difference. Looking back now I can see that Chris played it very deep. He gave me space to play around a little so I could recover some self respect. Chris wanted to stay married, but not to a beaten and cowed down women. He needed me to get my nerve back.

I’ve said several times that I don’t think of Chris as a cuckold, give or take some leeway on exactly how you define that. What Chris did appreciate long before me was that there could be an upside to the whole mess— if he played it right he could end up with a sexier sassy wife who’d got her mojo back and learned some valuable lessons. I know I said it was important to get out of the rut, but I think Chris saw that clearer than me and before me.

After the clinic gave us the all clear my despond lifted a bit but then I knew I had to make sense of where we went from there. I was happy with Chris coming with me when I went back to work, at least that way I would have support each evening. When we set off that was what I was looking forward to but I guess it was inevitable that we would talk about sex. I know some folk think I was being horrible to Chris when I got into the scene with Eddie and some people think Chris should never have allowed it. If Chris had said no then nothing would have happened; I was ready for him to say no, but Chris isn’t like that. I think he was already taking the long view with his eye on the bigger prize, turning me into twice the wife I had been.

There was a lot more going on between us. I was still in a state of shock and I couldn’t believe that he still loved me after what I’d done. I can’t say my thinking was crystal clear but when he suggested that my client — Eddie as it turned out— might be turned on by the chastity belt it occurred to me that if Chris still wanted me even if I did that, then despite my doubts and shame it had to mean that Chris really did still want me.

I knew he might be disgusted and I might lose him but at that point my self esteem was still rock bottom. I was sure in my mind that if I lost Chris it was my fault.

I can’t say that I enjoyed Eddie, he was one of those guys who seem to think that their money makes their cocks bigger or better. It doesn’t, and being arrogant with it doesn’t help.

Chris was right that I was bored with Eddie and I was glad that Chris pulled his stunt with the food trolley. I could have left it at that but somehow it didn’t seem like a fair test. Eddie simply didn’t have what it took to turn me on or Chris off. His flaunting money might have made me look like a whore but I didn’t think it went far enough.

I feel foolish saying that, I can’t seem to write the words any way that makes what I did sound sensible or logical, but that was the craziness going on in my mind. I’d been such a slut with Dean and Jay and Chris had only seen what happened in our house. I’d spent night after night being a whore for those two. I was convinced in my mind that Chris had to know how bad I could be. If he still wanted me when he knew that, then I’d have to believe it.

It must have seemed like I was an out of control cheating wife, I sure as hell did my best to seem something like that. Going to the bar, picking up a total stranger and blowing him in a doorway was the best I could improvise. It did give me a surge of adrenaline and then when Chris ‘rescued’ me in the hotel afterwards I knew that Chris was solidly with me.

Why didn’t I give it up right then? There was still too much going on in my head. I still felt disgusted with myself. Chris not throwing me out made me even more confused— the opposite of what I thought ought to happen.

At first I doubted Chris, finding it hard to believe that he could still want me. When my doorway escapade didn’t get me thrown out I should have felt great. I didn’t. Maybe it was the adrenaline still surging around my veins or maybe things simply take time to sink in. I was confused and unsettled with one thing after another bouncing around my head.

I knew I had to think, I had to get myself on an even keel, but if I stayed close to Chris  I knew I’d still be confused. On the other hand if I pushed him away then I might lose him. The more I thought he ought to dump me the more I hoped he wouldn’t. The idea that crept into my head was that if he stayed in the cock cage and I had the key then somehow I had a hold on him a kind of invisible string tying us together. I could get some distance and think without losing him.

I tried to sleep but it was hopeless so I got dressed and wondered around the hotel to see what was still open. It sounds weird but they had a vending machine with all sorts of stuff you might have forgotten, toothpaste, shaving gear and several different kinds of suitcase locks.

I sent Chris my nightdress and a loving text message to try to make sure that Chris knew I was the one who was confused; my problem was me not him. It felt all wrong and right at the same time. Does that make any sense?

I meant what I said to Chris about appreciating the respect he showed me and even more what I said about topping from the bottom. He let me figure things out but he kept pushing me. If he’d thrown me out or laid the law down in some other way I would have cracked up. I’d have stayed with him if I could but too much would have been left unresolved. Chris made me think my way through things without telling me what to think. I had to keep working at it, I couldn’t mark time.

When I first met Andrea I was making progress but I was still fragile and uncertain. At first she was distant, wanting to know what happened to Dean. When I made it clear that Dean was permanently out of the way she loosened up and after that we hit it off. Her business is fashion and image and I guess I tuned into that quicker than Dean ever did and we went from there.

We got through the work very quickly and she brought up Dean again. I didn’t quite tell Chris everything. Andrea owned up to me that she had an affair with Dean but it was on a rebound from her husband screwing his secretary. Dean did his usual thing of spotting a vulnerable woman that he could manipulate. Her husband seemed to think that he could do what he liked while he expected her to be faithful, so she threw him out.

I refused to tell her all about Dean, but I did own up a bit. She decided that Chris must be better than Dean. I said there was more to it than that but she kept hinting that she’d love to find out how good Chris was. I said at some point that I had no idea how I’d found such a good man and she kept insisting that no one could be that good.

“Could I tempt him?” she said. “I bet I could.”

I know it sounds crazy but the thought filled my head that I ought to let her try. If Chris left me for her then it was only what I deserved and if he didn’t then I’d know for sure that Chris really did want me.

Writing that now seems insane but I was still in a very weird state. It was only nine days since Chris had plastered our house with my disgusting behaviour.

When I met Chris back at the hotel that evening I had no idea how he would react to the idea of meeting Andrea. When Andrea turned up I couldn’t get the idea out of my head that I had to let her try to seduce Chris. I excused myself to the ladies room and when Andrea followed I forced the issue.

“He’s all yours,” I said, “but I’d like to watch.”

“Not right away,” Andrea said. “I don’t think I can cope with that and neither of us know if Chris could. Come to my place as early as you can tomorrow, sneak in, there’s a key under the mat.”

I made a note of the address, sent a note to Chris and took myself to bed wearing my chastity belt— reversing the connection, knowing in my heart that whatever happened with Andrea I was still attached to Chris, knowing the man well enough that he would not leave me locked forever. I appreciate that my reasoning about chastity devices is not the way it works for everyone, but back then it made sense to me.

I can’t say that it panned out exactly as I expected, Andrea’s house having poor phone signal complicated things, it probably distressed Chris more than I intended— though what exactly I intended is hard to pin down. When I saw them in bed, and I did see almost the whole waking up thing; it was a unique experience. Despite all Chris’s cameras I have not actually watched Chris making love to me, or anyone else. One of these days I’ll have to do that, so I can’t say if that morning was typical Chris behaviour or if he was trying extra hard. It felt to me as though Chris was not lost in her the way I think he is with me most times, maybe I’m kidding myself but that was how it felt to me.

My innards did clench a little and it did scare me somewhat but it was never so desperate that I wanted them to stop, nor did I want to join in. I was proud of Chris because I could see that he was giving Andrea what she needed and I can understand that need.

Chris doesn’t fuck like Dean did, he does something different, he kind of curates the desire of the woman under him, works with her to fill the void that she’s feeling, making her whole, respecting her need and filling her where she needs to be filled. Intercourse is a good word for it, a passion flowing, coursing, between them.

I felt good about giving Andrea that.

When I did join in I messed them both around— it had to be playful, a game, an entertainment, ending with me playing some of what Chris had done to me back at him and using the cage to possess him. Right then I needed that, though I had no intention of it staying on. Like Chris guessed, that was a performance for Andrea and it was good of Chris to play along. He didn’t deserve a punishment— one night of sex that I’d pretty much set up for him hardly equated to what I’d done.

I don’t know if I should have gone that far, but I think I made it up to him when we stopped on the road home. I thought I needed to keep playing the slut a little. I’m glad to have found that in me, I think it makes me a better partner in the long run, makes me feel that I can say to Chris ‘whatever you want me to do, I’m up to it.’

And finally we made it home. Was the game with the pizza boy a good idea? Who knows, one thing for sure is that I did it for Chris and he set it up for me. That felt right. I think Chris was still working on schooling me into a more exciting confident sexy wife. Paradoxically, him setting it up for me made me want to be faithful from there on, and I have been.

The hour before the boy came I had a bath, gave myself an enema, plugged and moisturised and perfumed myself like the best whore you could buy.

When I watched the film with Chris so much more came out, all that stuff about a pool and kids only appeared once I’d shown Chris what I could do, once he’d taken my arse, once I’d kept all my promises and suddenly I felt a surge of love, deeper love than I’d ever known for Chris. Right then I could imagine our future.

I have no idea what we should call our marriage, Chris isn’t a cuckold in the old fashioned sense, though I guess he was when I was cheating on him. He’s not a pimp either although if I played any more games like I did with Tony it might seem like that.

I can’t deny that I enjoyed my short career as a slut with Dean and Jay and I suppose I should be grateful to them for what they drew out of me. I think Dean is good at seeing vulnerabilities in certain women and using that insight for his own ends. Some of it felt like fun at the time but looking back I can see that I was a naive fool who allowed herself to be used and exploited. I’m sure Dean wouldn’t have given a damn if I’d ended up in a bad way.

Chris knows that I have that tendency within me and the episode with Tony helped me to see that Chris was capable of using it to take me to places I had never imagined.

We have our pool and sauna now and a baby on the way.

I met Dean’s wife last week; it was a surprise for me but I think she planned it. There was an awkward moment when I realised that she wanted to talk to me and I’d seen her too late to get away. She insisted on taking me for coffee.

“You used to work with Dean, right?”

“Yes,” I said, waiting to see what she wanted.

“Did you get fired too?”

“No, I ended up doing Dean’s work as well as mine for no extra pay.” I tried to add a nervous giggle at the end, not too hard because I had no idea where she was going with the questions.

“So what happens when you’re too far gone to work?” she said, pointing at my bump.

“Up to the boss I think, everything’s changed since I worked with Dean, I’m working a different patch now.”

She sat and sipped coffee for a minute. I was trying to decide what to make of her, there was something about her clothes and make up that made her look like a bit of a hard bitch. It had to be deliberate, no one looks like that accidentally.

“How did you get on with Dean?” she said.

“Well he was the team boss and I was pretty new, as far as Dean was concerned, I worked in the other company before the merger, I’d just about learned the ropes when they changed everything.”

“No,” she said, “I mean, really how did you and Dean get on, you know, when you were together day and night a week at a time.”

I tried to look puzzled. What could I say.

“I know what he was like,” she said and then looked at me very straight. I kept my face as blank as I knew how.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’m coming at this from the wrong angle. I know what went on. I’m divorcing him.”


She smiled suddenly and the hard face disappeared for a minute. “I got tired of it, you know, the philandering. That’s not Dean’s baby is it?” She said pointing at my bulge.

“No,” I said, I didn’t intend to elaborate, I knew there was no way.

“You wouldn’t have been the only one.”

“I know,” I said. I’ve met one of the others. It’s not Dean’s baby, I’m sure of that,” I managed to chuckle that time.

“Will you miss him?” I said. I don’t know what I was thinking, I should have kept quiet but for some crazy reason Dean’s cock sprang into my mind.

“No,” she said. “Did you know Jay that worked with Dean?”

I thought for a second she was going to ask if the baby was Jay’s.

“I’m with Jay now,” she said. “I’m not going to miss Dean, believe me.”

About then a bad thought hit me and it must have shown in my face.

“What?” she said. “Did you fancy Jay.”

“No, well yeah, anyone would, but you’re welcome. The thing is I told Dean to get lost or I’d tell you what he was up to, so if you’ve dumped him that threat is dead. I don’t want him pestering me.”

“What exactly have you got on Dean?”

In five seconds I had to size up this woman. One thought crossed my mind— really we should have sent the tapes anyway, after all Dean had messaged me after Chris told him not to. I told her Chris had a lot of film.

“This husband is something, are you still with him?”

“We’re together, yes, and it’s his baby.”

“So he’s a forgiving sort.”

“It’s deeper than that, he loves me.”

“Is he some sort of fool?”

That stung, even if it was deserved. For a second I felt like hitting her, or running away, somehow this high minded bitch had managed to insult me and Chris. Me I could take, I deserved it but not Chris.

“No,” I said. “My husband is a really smart guy who knows what he wants and figures out how to get it.”

“Why would he keep a slut like you?”

“I wasn’t a slut before your ex manipulated me. Did Jay show you the videos?”

“The ones he took of you and Dean?”

So Jay had used the ones he took to snag her— the apprentice learning from the master. I’m surprised Dean hadn’t hit back. I guess he fancied a change. Should I tell her? Did Jay deserve that?

“Yeah,” I said, “They may be the same as the ones we were going to send you if Dean tried it on again. Tell Jay I said you could see them but if Chris finds out he spread them anywhere else then he’ll be in more trouble than he can imagine.”

I kept quiet as her eyes scanned my face, I had a feeling Jay might have an uncomfortable evening. After a beat she pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and wrote an address and a phone number.

“That’s Dean’s mum and dad. For all the bravado he’s still a mummy’s boy deep down. He would absolutely hate for them to know what a shit he can be.” She grinned at me. “You play a good hand girl. I think I’m better off with Jay don’t you think?”

Should I drop him in it and tell her how many nights I slept with Jay? What would be the point. Chris knows everything and if Jay ever came on to either of us we know exactly who to tell.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said, after all Jay never did me any harm, I didn’t need to drop him in it. She laughed, nodded and smiled.

“I’m glad I ran into you. Take care of this one,” she said, pointing at my bump, “and cherish that husband of yours, there’s not many like him.”

Don’t I know it.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to any person or place now or in the past is accidental.
The author, Whitebeard, asserts all copyright rights. No reproduction without permission is permitted.

<a href=””> Getting out of the Rut Chapter 17 </a>

Source link


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here