Have you ever made a mistake so big that it just fucked up your whole life? And then looked back and said," If I could only go back to (insert date and time here) then everything would be alright?
Well if you've ever done that, you know like I do, that often our lives and our happiness hinges on a single assumption, choice, decision or omission. Sometimes there are predators who help to push us through or into those terrible decisions as well. I met a predator like that and she helped me fuck up my life.
I'm standing down the street from my house right now, staring at my front door through binoculars. I'm hoping for one chance to get my life back, no matter what it takes. Nope, this won't do at all. You don't know me or anything about me and you don't know how I got here, or the details. I guess I should start somewhere near the beginning.
My name is Joyce Brooks. I wish I could tell you that I'm a tall blond Nordic super model type, but I'd be lying my ass off because none of that is true. I'm 37 years old, I have brown hair, and I'm barely 5' 1' so tall would be a stretch of the imagination.
I'm neither thin or fat, I'm kind of in the middle. I don't have giant boobs and the ones I do have no longer point towards the ceiling. Both my bust and my ass gave up the battle against gravity years ago. My tummy is kind of soft and rounded, but my husband Greg never seemed to mind it. That stupid man loved my body and all of its imperfections. In fact he worshipped every part of me like I was something precious.
Every night when we got into bed and saw all of those hollywood types on TV, running around in their short skirts and tall heels with their flat tummies he'd gently wrap his arms around me. I'd tell him to stop rubbing my stomach because it was round and soft. He'd tell me that he made it that way by putting his babies in it and he loved it.
Then he'd start rubbing his dick against my ass, so I knew what he wanted. And two or sometimes three times a week, I'd let him have what he wanted. Boy what a fool I was. When I look back on it now I should have been fuc ... Nope that wasn't my incident of pivotal stupidity, but you're right, it is taking me a while to get there. Be patient, I'm trying to let you see what my life used to be like.
Anyway Greg, was 36, yep I robbed the cradle. He was born a full year and 2 days after me. We grew up in the same small town, played together as kids, went to school and college together and got married soon after. We both looked for and found jobs in Chicago, so we moved here soon after we got married.
We have 2 kids, a boy and a girl. We waited until we were financially stable to have them. Our son Jeff, is 8 and his sister Katie is 6. We live in a beautiful Colonial home in a very nice neighborhood in a suburb of Chicago. Everything about my life was beautiful.
There was nothing wrong with my husband, my life or my family, I just went bat shit crazy and fucked it all up.
Even my job, though boring, wasn't stressful or demanding. I worked from 7 a.m. until 3 p.m. Monday through Friday as a clerk for a shipping and receiving company. All I had to do was process and print out invoices that someone else turned into shipping labels. Labels that yet another person put onto packages and shipped them to someone else. I was just a single cog in a very large process. I think that was the problem. As I neared forty, I started to think of myself as plain and boring. It just seemed like everyone else had fun and excitement in their lives, and I was just another drab boring housewife.
If I died, the world would never even notice. That was the way I was feeling the day this all started, and my happy life ended. Greg had taken some time off from work to take me out to lunch. Even then he was being a great husband. He'd noticed the disturbance in the force, aka my emotional mood swings and was trying to cheer me up. He'd just walked me back to my desk and kissed me goodbye, when "she," came over.
"Hi, Joyce," she said. "She," being Wanda Newcastle, the office "hot girl," and the woman who launched all of the boners in the company. I'm sure you all know the type. She has long bleached blond hair, big boobs and a cute little voice. She laughs at all of the jokes the guys tell, sometimes even the funny ones. She doesn't mind it when the guys "accidentally," rub up against her and sometimes even does it herself. She disappears repeatedly into the stockroom all during the week. And though she never seems to do any work, her job gets done just the same.
This opened my eyes up a bit because I was sure that until that moment, Wanda had never bothered to say more than two words to any of the women in our office. The rumor was that her voice was only audible to men. I was sure that she had never before uttered even one syllable to me.
"You seem a little bit down, today," she said. "I just thought I'd come over and see if there was anything I could do to make you feel better."
"It's nothing," I said. "Just the emotional ups and downs that all women go through from time to time."
"I hear you," she said. "And of course everyone around us is so busy with their own crap that they never think to ask about us."
I started thinking that maybe I'd misjudged Wanda. She didn't seem so bad.
"As if I didn't have enough problems," she began. "My family is trying to make the fact that my sister is 28 years old and unmarried, somehow my problem. If my mother tells me "Wanda you know a lot of men. Can't you hook her up with someone," one more God damned time, I'll scream. Suddenly finding a man for my baby sister is my life's top priority, according to my mom."
"I keep trying to tell her that the kinds of men I know wouldn't be good marriage material for my sister. They're only good for playing around and "no strings," arrangements," she said, winking at me.
I blushed heavily, at her inference. Boy was I stupid.
"But Wanda, aren't you married?" I asked.
"Of course I am," she said. "But a little spice on the side keeps us both happy, if you know what I mean. I love Danny to death, and he loves me. But that man goes through secretaries, like teen-aged girls go through panties. None of them mean anything to him. And none of the guys I meet mean anything to me. They just add a little spice. and keep us interested. Besides we're in the club."
"You're in what club?" I asked.
"I shouldn't talk about it here," she whispered. "We'll do lunch and I'll fill you in. Let's talk about something different. There are too many nosey people around here. Was that your husband who just kissed you goodbye?" I nodded. She already had me hooked and interested. I was so intrigued by the things she was hinting about that I failed to notice her true interest.
"He's cute," she said. She asked me all kinds of questions about Greg and I stupidly just answered them. Between giving me the third degree about my husband and family she meted out small hints and tidbits about the mysterious club.
That night when I got home my mood had lightened considerably. I told Greg that I had made a new friend at work. He was very happy for me. I guess he'd noticed that I was in a better mood.
"Greg, have you ever thought about being with a different woman?" I asked as we were getting ready for bed. He looked as if he was going to have a heart attack. He actually spit out the last sip of his beer.
"Of course not," he said. "Why would I need to? I have you."
"I know that Honey," I said. "But we are getting a bit older so I was just wondering." I let the subject drop. I could tell that Greg was still wondering about it though. He knew me too well after all of the years we'd been together. I should have realized how much he was upset by it. That night he didn't even hint around that he wanted sex.
The next morning as soon as I got to the office and started on my pile of invoices, Wanda came over to my desk. "How about lunch today?" she asked.
"Okay," I smiled. I was happier than I'd been in a long time. Looking back on it I realize that she was just playing me like a pro. My own need for excitement, or to break out of the rut I thought I was in did the rest.
We talked about clothes and the weather and the people at work for about twenty minutes. I was dying, then Wanda slowly started to talk about other things. When she mentioned "the club," I was all ears.
"Danny and I are part of a group of people who get together for adult activities occasionally," she said. "It doesn't really have a name we just call it the club. It really helped me to become the woman I am now. It made my life more exciting, and my marriage better," she said.
"I used to be totally bored and boring," she said. "Once we joined the club, I began to appreciate myself and my marriage more. That made me more confident, and a confident woman is a sexy woman. You'd be surprised how many men are attracted to that confidence. I never had the guts to even dress the way I do until I joined the club. I used to wonder why any man would want to even look at me."
"How do I get into this club?" I asked. I should have noticed that her whole line sounded like a fucking commercial.
"Joyce, are you sure you're interested in something like that?" she asked. "Your marriage seems pretty solid as it is."
"Well, my marriage is solid," I said. "But it could use a bit of spice, like you mentioned."
"How does your husband feel about that?" she asked.
"He loves me," I said. "If I come up with the right tactic, I'm sure I could get him to go along with it."
.... There is more of this story ...